


King of Swords

by ariasound



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Kink, Blood Magic, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Dark Magic, Double Penetration, Drunk Sex, Drunken Kissing, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Male Apprentice (The Arcana), Master/Pet, Medical Kink, Multi, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sex Magic, Sex Toys, Smut, Spells & Enchantments, Temporary Character Death, Threesome - F/M/M, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Vaginal Sex, chaos mage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariasound/pseuds/ariasound
Summary: Victor is a young and unstable chaos mage, ordered to join the Court of Vesuvia by Count Lucio. From the moment he enters the Court, he attracts the eyes of Consul Valerius. But the world doesn't always have a fairy tale love story planned for each of us and that is especially true in Victor's case.
Relationships: Apprentice/The Devil (The Arcana), Apprentice/Valerius (The Arcana), Asra/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana), Julian Devorak/Original Female Character(s), Julian Devorak/Original Male Character(s), Portia Devorak/Nadia, Valerius (The Arcana)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello hello  
> So I suck at writing Summaries  
> I read quite a few Arcana fanfics and although every writer was amazingly talented and I enjoyed their work so much I couldn't help but notice how all their apprentices are such perfect characters and mine is a bit of a shit show lol. So I decided to write a little story about my sweet, insane apprentice Victor and share it with you all.  
> I've tried to pick the tags to portray the story as accurately as possible but I would like to make it clear that this story does indeed involve themes of domestic abuse and graphic violence. As a domestic abuse surviver I encourage each and every one of you who thinks they relate to Victor's predicament to seek help and offer it to others you know who may need it
> 
> I'm really sorry if you expect a very wholesome story from the beginning because that's not what's happening here lol altho it does have a nice ending. Valerius is kind of horrible in this one but he will have proper character development like everybody else, I promise.  
> I'm a bit rusty in writing fanfiction so go easy on me please.  
> Please leave comments telling me what you think of the story and feel free to DM me on either Instagram (aria.sound) or Tumblr (ariasoundblog) if you want our apprentices to interact or if you would like me to write a one shot about ur apprentice/characters.
> 
> *****

His gaze constantly moved between the man's lips forming words of condescension directed at the rest of the court and the soft tap of his fingertips against the glass set before him on the table. One hand had stretched to grip the tall glass of wine as his other elbow was pressed down on the cushioned armrest of his chair to support his weight. His posture stayed as relaxed and elegant as the beginning of the meeting, even after 2 hours of having to argue with the -brainless- other members of the court.

One could assume that the reason behind the young man's subtle frown was how his idea of seeking help from the Prakrans with restoring the further drowning Flooded District was shut down not so delicately, but the truth was he could hardly even focus on Valerius's mocking tone when he responded to his comment with “genius idea to let the neighboring kingdoms think we’re incapable of maintaining our city”. Victor was still lost in the night before. His mind was a mess of images and the brief conversation exchanged between him and the man currently sitting before him.

His body had been hitched up higher on the bed with each violent slam of the other’s hips. Strong hands grasped the bedsheets in a desperate search for physical support; he knew better than to attempt holding onto Valerius.

He was told to put his clothes back on and leave before the servant dropped by to collect the Consul's garments to wash and freshen up his glass of wine. And right before Victor reached for the doorknob with hands trembling from shame and humiliation that he still wasn’t quite used to after so long, the Consul delivered him the most wonderful news!!  
"I will not be in Vesuvia next week, so our usual arrangement will not be taking place obviously," he said. "Oh, Uhm... ok? Another summit..?" He bit his lip in embarrassment after the question was already out, despite everything he'd done to the boy just moments ago it felt like overstepping boundaries to ask after his reason for going on this trip. Their relationship was more of the kind that dictated they curse each other’s name in public but in private Victor would have to be plaint and polite before the other to please him. So truly, this invasive question should not have been asked. But whatever the reason, Valerius didn't seem to care as he replied while braiding his hair, emotionless eyes never leaving the large mirror placed on the dresser: "no… my wedding is on Saturday." His answer nearly made the air break in the poor man's windpipe as he looked at him in disbelief.

Slowly, a shaky defeated smile set itself on his lips. "You're getting married!! Congratulations! To whom, may I ask?” he managed to blurt out without his voice breaking. The other man's gaze, locked onto his reflection, and turned cold as he responded with a tone even more frozen: "I am yet to meet her."

His eyes burned as his lips took a crooked shape from being pressed together so tightly. He managed a vague nod before whispering: "goodnight, Consul."   
Victor successfully sucked in a few deep breaths as he rushed through the Consul's estate but eventually failed to hold the tears back once he stepped into the street.

 _Her!_ The pronoun alone was weighing on him like it was a thousand tons. _‘What did you think, you moron? Did you assume that warming his bed every once in awhile meant he saw you as anything but an easy relief? He's a politician and he comes from a long fucking line of politicians, did you honestly think he'd be caught dead openly courting with a mage???’_ his subconscious screamed at him as he buried his face in his palms.  
When he arrived at the palace the bottom of his trousers were covered in dust and held quite a few small tears, the outfit Nadia had chosen for him to wear to have tea with the Wallachian ambassador, was not meant for running 3 miles through the streets.

Portia required no explanation once she saw his reddened eyes and tired expression; she simply collected the discarded outfit and let him stay in his little bubble of misery where he felt safest.  
  


  
"WITCH! I'm speaking to you!” his words were practically spat at Victor's slack expression with rage, effectively breaking him out of his daze.

He looked up at the furious man, mouth still in a spiteful frown as he responded: "Sorry Consul, I was not listening." Valerius's scowl deepened as Vlastomil murmured something about Victor's tone to an amused Vulgora. He scoffed in disbelief with an offended undertone before turning to Lucio: "my lord, do we need him in every court meeting if he’s to spend the duration of the meeting in daydreams like a teenager?" 

Flames of pure wrath burned behind his eyes as he stared at Valerius in anger: how DARE he!! His tone gave away none of his rage as he spoke with an indifferent expression masking his pain and anger: "My lord, do we need a _'foreigner'_ in every court meeting? He's merely a Consul and he takes it upon himself to give off more orders than you, my count."   
Before Lucio could manage a response, Valerius hissed out one of his own: "Don't be a child." Victor raised an eyebrow as his black gaze locked into the Consul’s golden one: "or what? You'll put me in time out!?"   
Nadia broke the two's quarrel with a stern tone that sent shivers down one's spine: "Enough!! You're both educated men of noble birth, must you act like children each time you carry out a conversation longer than 2 sentences?" Two apologies were exchanged, one from the Countess to the Count’s scornful expression and another from the mage to them both. He decided that Valerius did not deserve more than a glare sent his way.

He exited the room before any of the courtiers and took a deep breath as he tried to decide on where to go so he could be alone and in peace. Valerius silenced Procurator Volta’s attempt at starting a conversation with a glare before he followed the boy out. He grasped Victor's elbow as he was making his way down the corridor to the library, keeping the mage in place with an unbelievably strong grip: "What has gotten into you?!"   
"If you do not unhand me this instant, you're going to attend your own wedding with a broken spine," said the witch as he extended his magic to the beautiful marble statue next to the Consul, making it crack at the middle to emphasize his point. He expected a shocked expression to take over his face, he was sure his hand would slip away from his elbow after Victor’s -somewhat over the top- threat but instead an annoyed scoff escaped him as he stared at the witch with an irritated but exhausted expression.

Valerius's death grip shifted from his elbow to his wrist as he started making his way through the corridors at a pace that made sure the witch was getting dragged behind him. "You insist on acting like an insolent child, I suppose I just have to treat you like one. I'm assuming that's what you want, isn't it??"

He pushed the doors of his chambers open and practically shoved the boy through, continuing with his words being spit at the witch as his fury was even more evident in his body language than his tone: "I am speaking to you, are you deaf as well as dumb?"

A string of thoughts struck Victor: he's stronger and taller than this bastard and he knows he can snap the Consul in 2 with a simple flick of his wrist... And yet the only response he could find in himself to the behavior the Consul was showing were the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes as he shook his head in disbelief of the ignorant fool with the elegant appearance before him. How can one be so arrogant? Did he have no damn emotional intelligence??  
Victor practically croaked out: "get out of my fucking way Consul," taking a step towards a door, hoping that this time he'll simply let up and let him leave. His hand pressed to the broad chest before: "not until I get a proper answer. What, in the name of gods, has gotten into you, Witch?"  
And with that, he finally lost it! Nearly a year of pent up rage at being the Consul's dirty little secret, letting him enjoy his fantasy of having a purely sexual tryst with a young witch, broke free. This man had given him hell in the better part of the past year; from the moment he took his seat in court the Consul had made sure to be Victor's tormenter.  
  


  
Naxos wasn't a place he cared to call home.

"Strong and elegant" were the words one should've been described by at any given moment, in that land. His mother, aunts, and uncles, all held a distant cousin most of them had never met as a standard for him, constantly telling him tall tales of the beasts he slew and the honor and glory he brought their family. Tall and muscular, dark and beautiful, perfect in every way, the best person for the young witch to look up to. But he knew full and well that he was nothing like this cousin, he had no intention of being like him either! He hated Mr. Perfect with a passion, one that only ran hotter every time his aunts would sit at his mother’s side to tell her of the news about her third cousin’s son’s conquests, _‘a true Principia’_.

He wondered how the man was behind all the tales and ballads; probably an aging son of the nobles the women in his mother’s side of the family loved to bang, with a beard that reached his fat belly. He probably clung to the fading glow of his magical powers for dear life whenever he encountered a beast and his army of archers and swordsmen landed the killing blow anyway… or so he liked to think! No man could as perfect as people from a faraway land cared to paint him.

Victor was different than all of his family members; his magic did not _feel_ normal. Chaos seeped from his fingertips and ruined nearly every spell he cast; sleeping spells tried on small animals sent them into comas, element summoning spells left his room flooded or on fire, fertilizing chants caused his mother’s rose garden to overgrow and turn black with poisonous plants that reached the neighbor’s farmhouse nearly a hundred yards away from their home.

The scolding and the shame of being the only mage who had such a frail grasp over his powers resulted in a thick cloud of depression to form in his mind after a while. The initial anger and fury he felt at a young age had given way to sadness and disappointment as his family encouraged him to work towards becoming a healer even after they had seen him ring the necks of animals during autumnal hunts with a snap of his fingers or how he left sheep bled dry when he attempted to shear them to help his uncles in gathering the wool needed to spin yarn from.

His parents had clearly, chosen to completely ignore the fact that the boy was, in his own words, a _killer_. His cousins and siblings boasted about the positions and jobs they had managed to obtain in the royal courts of Europe while asking him, with no little malice in their tone, what he was doing with his life as he was living out his last teenage years.

He didn't bother telling anybody about his decision to leave Naxos, assuming that nobody would _really,_ care either way. He repeated to himself time and time again that his family was better off without him burdening them with his existence.

He was robbed at the docks by –probably- starving fishermen whose accents he barely understood. Having been too afraid of becoming an official murderer if he used magic to defend himself, the boy was left with nothing but his coat and 3 copper coins the fishermen had spared him. His first week in Vesuvia was spent in the dirty streets that were home to the otherwise homeless.

He had a stroke of pure luck bringing him to the door of his mother's aunt's shop as he was searching for a job to avoid starvation. Aeliana would know her favorite niece’s polished obsidian eyes anywhere and this boy had those exact eyes with a slight hint of a Greek accent, what were the odds!

He soon caught the eyes of the boy with the golden skin and small dimples who always showed up to help auntie Aeliana with one thing or another, his white hair somehow looked curlier each time he laid eyes on him.

Asra found out about his secret when he found him on the floor of a shop one day while his aunt had gone shopping, he was sobbing over the body of a dead Nightingale whose spine he had broken on accident when he extended a finger for the beautiful creature to sit on.

Asra's breathing exercises and centering spells quickly became a rather effective crutch to carry Victor through his days without setting anybody on fire when they shot him impatient glares as he packed their herbs for them. But there was only so much those exercises could do... He was invited, or one might say practically dragged, to the place after Lucio saw him lift a man into the air before dropping him in the fountain in the town square, using only hand gestures. The man had insulted him for smelling every single lemon he picked for a spell before putting them in his bag. You see, the boy had a hair-trigger for being called the F word... Freak!!

Lucio treated him like another one of his exotic pets after he failed to recruit him as one of his exotic lovers, the boy wasn’t what one might perceive him to be by his mild-mannered and quiet behavior. He would not be impressed by gold or let himself be kissed or held without his explicit permission, not by Lucio anyway.

Although the strange stubborn boy was not a creature Lucio could have in his bed, he knew the boy would make an excellent member of his court and so Victor was seated at the countess’s side merely weeks after his arrival and was asked for his opinion far more often than she ever was by her husband.

Through every meeting and every formal dinner his eyes were fixed on one thing, well- one man! Say what you will about Greece but the country’s progressive way of thinking helped Victor understand from a young age that he had very little interest in women, and in turn made it clear to him that it was tall handsome men with unrelenting scowls and anxious auras who caused his loins to stir. It wasn’t hard for his hungry gaze to find a target for his lustful thoughts, in Consul Valerius; even as the man never seemed to fail to spare him a cold glare upon laying eyes on him.

Lucio had the ingenious idea of ordering “Val” to teach the young noble everything he had missed out on by leaving Naxos before he even aged 20. One can only imagine how drunk the Consul was when he agreed to train a young witch whom he constantly insulted, to be a proper member of the court.

Through each lesson Victor’s fanciful desire to be more than his student only rose, along with the bile in his throat every time Valerius made another snarky comment about one thing or another he did. Their first kiss and the first time Valerius had taken the young man so brutally over his desk, was the result of the same anger making the slightest appearance in Victor’s annoyed whisper: “oh bite me, you old fuck.” 

And bite, the Consul did. The poor boy didn’t dare make eye contact with the servant girl who asked how he was, the next morning as he was taking his walk of shame out of the Consul’s manor.

Dr. Lanky Redhead, as he was known when Victor had first arrived at the palace, made a concerned comment on Victor’s bruises and bite marks as the witch was practically running through the corridors of the palace to reach his quarters before the Consul’s seed soiled the cashmere pants the countess had gifted him because that was not a stain he could ever explain to the laundrywomen. Julian prescribed a vile of a fragrant oil mixture that he apparently, used on himself quite often.

The oils worked wonders… until the Consul decided he wanted another round after Victor stammered twice through a speech in the Count’s presence, and this time the marks and scars were in places he couldn’t oil up without arousing himself once more and having to endure the pain of the silver cock ring Valerius had left him with, digging into his flesh.

For the next 8 months, the mage spent most his nights between the beige-colored silken covers of the Consul’s bed, taking the pleasure with the pain and each day improving his methods of swallowing his anger as he suffered daydreams that the cruel man’s view of him would one day change.

But he’d had enough! “You. Arrogant. Bastard.” His voice rose in volume with each word as a deep shade of crimson glowed behind his eyes. Valerius’s scowl cracked a bit as he took a step back from the enraged mage. His tan skin seemed to glow as though the fire inside him had a much more literal existence than the Consul would hope.

Large hands grasped at the stunned man’s collar before Victor’s words were roared into his face, a low growl giving his voice an edge that cut right through Valerius’s tough act: “You old piece of shit, you play me for months and kick me out of your bedroom like a common whore, then tell me in that fucking nonchalant tone that you’re going to marry a woman you _haven’t even fucking met_ and you expect me to be calm and treat you with _respect_???” the rant was topped off with a shove at Valerius’s shoulders before Victor spat out: “shove your punishment up your ass, it’ll fit into the imprints I left nicely. I’m sure that’ll keep you nice and satisfied while you pretend to be a good monogamous husband to the literal mystery woman.” His smirk reeked of rage and heartbreak, love and regret at still feeling it. Victor’s shoulder briefly brushed the Consul’s shoulder as he stepped towards the door.

His back remained turned to the young man as his voice reached his ears: “grow up. I thought a boy as smart as you would know better than to expect the person whose sheets he occupies to fall in love with him.”

Victor straightened his back and held his chin up high before replying: “I’m not a boy, Consul. I’m a man, which is more than I can say for you. And you’re right; I’m too smart to expect emotions from a lonely old drunk.” His heart ached as he realized how untrue those words were; he wanted Valerius to chase after him, to apologize at least.

Regardless of how deeply he desired to run back to the Consul, he made his way through the halls and corridors with poise and elegance in his steps that he never knew he possessed. Having his heart shattered had changed something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

But Valerius knew quite well what was different about his boy. A sick smile spread across his lips as he watched the young man’s figure disappear after he made a turn for the hallway leading to the library: “I made you in my image, little witch. You’ll thank me when you’re sitting at a ruler’s side and an entire kingdom is looking to your lips, awaiting your wisdom.” He turned around and closed the doors of his quarters softly before walking to the glass table next to the large windows. He carefully plucked a heavy crystal bottle of Syrah wine and filled his glass.

His golden gaze seemed unable to focus on anything specific as he turned to the windows facing the palace gardens. He didn’t feel sorrow or frustration at the direction his life was headed in; he was born to be a diplomat. Traditional values, dozens of tutors, a strict household and a constant reminder that he was a young branch on a tall family tree of powerful men and women, shaped Valerius into the man he was today.

He wasn’t going to rip away the carefully placed mask and promise Victor anymore than what he could truly deliver. It mattered very little how disgusted he felt by himself due to being in love with a creature he only wished to torture.

It wasn’t of any importance that spending years alone after _the incident,_ had left him with sick a twisted desire to hurt whoever dared ask for his affection in returning for offering him a way out of his desolated state, into their arms.

He was to be married to a woman his family had chosen, he’d have children and let them follow the same fucking cycle of misery that was ruining his liver and his chance at feeling somebody’s affection who wanted nothing but a fraction of his attention in return.

He looked down at the shattered glass in his hand with an annoyed sneer directed at both his thoughts and the sharp pain he felt in his palm and let the pieces fall to the ground along with trickles of blood and wine mixture. His gaze returned to the empty gardens as his other hand reached for the bell that sat on the glass table, shaking it three to signal that there was an emergency.

The servant boy who rushed into his room was new, he noted mentally. He spoke calmly, completely ignoring the boy’s horrified eyes staring at his red drenched hand: “call Dr. Devorak over and clean this mess.” The boy nodded frantically: “yes my lord… yes I’ll get the doctor first.” He rushed away, leaving Valerius alone with his thoughts once more. He simply blinked as he felt the slight blood loss dragging him down memory lane.

He has excellent hearing, always did. The whispers of the palace staff never went unheard and it had been a few days since the favorite topic of the eastern servant girls’ chatter had become “loup couveur”.

Along the whispers and giggles, he had heard enough to paint himself a rough picture: he knew the boy was quite tall and muscular, tan skin, long caramel-colored hair, they said that he carried himself well but usually averted his gaze and refused to make eye contact with most but those who had gotten a glance or two said that the sight of his pitch-black irises vaguely unsettled them. He apparently, refused to let any maid or servant help wash his hair or prepare his baths. He was of noble birth and the Count seemed to be interested in making him court magician and have him be his _fling_ of the month.

He was presented to the court as the new magician and Lucio, like the impulsive idiot that he is, didn’t even bother asking the courtiers their opinion on the matter. Valerius regarded the young man with great skepticism but ultimately decided against questioning Lucio’s decision in selecting someone so green, as court magician.

A few days later he saw the magician wandering the palace gardens alone, leaving strange plants to grow at quite the speed, in his wake. The plants, upon later inspection, turned out to be Stinging Nettle. The witch’s presence deeply unsettled and intrigued Valerius. His nickname suited him. “Brooding wolf” seemed to describe him well, he spoke very few words and despite his strong body and the anxiety he stirred into others, the look on his face made it seem like it was torture for him to just exist.

The expression only softened when he saw the redheaded doctor. Julian’s terrible jokes that pulled harsh glares from Valerius and hushed giggles from the servants, made Victor give the faintest form of a smile in response. His ice slowly broke with the doctor’s efforts, he finally started speaking out in court meetings when Quaestor Valdemar brought Dr. Devorak along and Julian smiled and nodded at him in encouragement.

For some inexplicable reason, their connection seemed to infuriate the Consul but he tried to dismiss it as his general disdain for the younger generation.

About 3 months after Victor’s arrival, Lucio suggested that Valerius mentor him and teach him anything he needed to know about the land he now served. He may have accepted far too quickly and with too little of a fight because upon his affirmation the witch’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline.

He practically hissed at the doctor as he was cleaning the cut on his right palm. Julian mumbled out an apology before removing the last small shard of glass. Before Julian’s glove covered hands could reach for the bandages, the Consul pulled his hand away gingerly: “I’m a political figure doctor, I can’t have bandages on my hand; it’d raise questions.” Julian raised one fine eyebrow: “like why and how you broke a crystal glass in one bare hand? – I’m pretty sure they already know you’re human. Humans tend to get hurt. Give me your hand Consul; I have no intention of treating you for infection in a day or two.” Valerius simply huffed in response before resting his hand on Julian’s lap again with an open palm.

Julian made quick work of bandaging the wound, closed his medical bag once he was done and stood in front of the Consul: “anything else my lord?” Valerius’s eyes briefly darted to the ground before he looked up the doctor: “yes. Do you have some sort of physic for headaches and insomnia?”

Julian’s response came with seemingly no malice or sarcasm: “I’d suggest less alcohol consumption, sir”, but it scrunched up Valerius’s face into a deep scowl. The corner of his top lip turned slightly upward in dismay at the fact that this _worthless peasant_ dared comment on his drinking: “very clever. Maybe I should ask the witch for help with the matter instead.”

Julian truly talked too much; he knew that better than anybody. He would swear he’s working on it but after years of attempting to hold his damn tongue, his efforts remained fruitless. And the proof of this failure lied in the way he muttered: “I doubt hate sex would be of much help to your headaches, sir.”

Valerius’s eyes threatened to tear at the edges from how wide they opened at Julian’s response. The doctor’s face flushed in embarrassment and horror as though he had _just_ realized what he had blurted out and he only turned more crimson before his nimble fingers grasped at his medical bag. “I’m so sorry… I’ll just Uhm… alright erm… good afternoon to you, Consul.” And with that he sprinted for the door before Valerius broke out of what seemed to be a daze caused by the sheer rage, and fired Julian from the palace and straight to the gallows.

Valerius’s thoughts were a mess, he wanted to scream, lose his composure with rage like Lucio did when anybody dared speak out of turn in his presence. He had a deep burning desire to lash the doctor to death but he had a sneaking suspicion that the man would rather enjoy that. With each passing second his mind only became more and more distorted, but at the center of the screaming patterns of thinking, one thought stood out boldly: “that thoughtless fucking witch.”


	2. Chapter 2

He rested his forehead against the rough surface of the table as he stared up at Julian with a pout: “I messed up so bad.” The redhead sighed and ran his glove covered fingers through the soft locks of hair splayed across Victor’s shoulders and neck. He raised a brow and asked: “Are you finally ready to tell me what you did? First you brawl into my office in a murderous rage and now you’re pouting, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened exactly.”

His frown only deepened dramatically as he stared at Julian with a not-entirely-real innocent expression: “but you’ll judge me so hard.” The doctor flashed him a grin: “you’ve seen me flirt AT people and stumble back to you like a kicked puppy. I don’t think what you did could be more pathetic than that, sweetheart.”

Victor sniffled before responding in a pitiful tone, in the order that his drunken mind could recall: “I pushed him… and I cussed at him a whole lot more before that too… and I embarrassed him at court earlier and on the last bit I called him a lonely old drunk.”

Julian’s eyes widened as they scanned Victor’s face: “are you sure you don’t want to try the _magical_ herbs your aunt gave you for your temper?” He sniffled again before letting out a fake, silent sob: “I overreacted, I know.”

Julian swirled the drink in his cup as he mumbled: “and what did he do that made you react like this?” Victor gulped down the contents of his mug before muttering with his eyes glued to the swaying motion of the drink at the edge of Julian’s cup: “mmm… marriage… He told me he’s getting marriaged… married! Oh gods”, he held his forehead as he tried to collect his thoughts. “He’s getting married. This… next week…” he managed to slur out and blinked with his eyelids uncoordinated.

The doctor’s brows furrowed as he stared at his friend, trying to find anything to say besides insults directed at the man who appeared to be incapable of stopping himself from breaking Victor’s heart.

Moments passed in silence before Julian reached over the table, held his companion’s shoulders and muttered in an odd tone: “he’s so stupid.”

Victor cried out: “I know!! So stupid, right? He’s so arrogant I have no idea why I keep doing this to myself; I keep falling for smart, sexy and **_beautiful_** men who are completely emotionally unavailable. But this one takes the cake; I’ve been under him for 8 months and he’s getting _married_!! I’m starting to take it personally; do I make men realize they prefer women by letting them have me?”

Julian let out a drunken giggle then a louder chuckle that carried through his words as he replied in slurred words: “n-no! No you don’t make boys like women. It’s called a political marriage and it’s not exactly his fault either, you know.” He waved his hand as Victor’s lips opened with a frown on his face: “nope! No let me finish; I’m not going to defend the bastard! I’m just saying this is what families like the one he came from do; they like to pick your spouse for you from an equally powerful family. What am I saying even? Your mom’s a Principia; you probably grew up watching dozens of cousins get married off this way, you know how these things go. Valerius has no control over this… But I’ll tell you this: Count Thotticus is probably wriggling with joy in his tight pants about Valerius marrying the daughter of a wealthy noble family.”

Victor’s frown only turned sourer as he mumbled: “what does that have to do with Lucio?” Julian rubbed his eyes then stared at him with an expression that showed he’s barely staying awake after that many drinks: “he Uhm... He has to approve of the marriage or suggest a candidate or something, and since he hasn’t that makes me think that he likes the so-called fiancé because having the daughter of a powerful family married to his Consul means he has the attention and possibly support of said family.”

Victor chuckled and looked down at his cup with a wicked smirk, one rousing a question in Julian’s mind: “what are you smirking at, evil one?”

The boy chuckled again and rubbed at his forehead softly before taking a deep breath to arrange his words better in Vesuvian: “at the fact that I could feed him a love potion and ask the Countess to suggest me as a viable candidate to be his spouse… But I’m not juvenile enough to do so and I have no intention of having a ring upon my finger act as a collar, signaling that Valerius now fucking owns me.” He knew well that he was lying, the more the Consul treat him like _his_ personal prostitute the happier he seemed to be between the man’s sheets. _‘You crave to be owned you filthy liar’_ he thought to himself.

He stared down into his empty cup with the same look of misery he always wore when he first arrived in Vesuvia as he mumbled on, as though he was only talking to himself: “I don’t want to force myself onto him… To him I’m nothing but a foolish child who’s fallen in love with his mentor.”

Julian whispered: “that sounds like your country’s ancient traditions.” Black eyes fixed on silver ones as the mage asked: “what do you mean?”

Julian struggled a bit with translating his knowledge to the language being spoken as his mouth gaped a few times before he finally managed: “You clearly missed your history lesson… Apparently in ancient Greece- and to this day, in some cities, older and worldlier men take on the task of teaching younger men the ways of the world and more often than not, they take those younger men as lovers despite having wives.”

In a haze of depression and self loath, Victor felt his nostrils burn and his eyes sting as he glued a bitter smile to his face and spoke through the welling of tears in the corners of his eyes: “No I knew that but… I’m glad to know he only did all this to show his respect for our fucked up culture… Though I highly doubt every one of those stupid lovers ends up with a heart as deeply wounded as mine.”

He rose to his feet, ignoring Julian’s protests and attempts at explaining to Victor’s misunderstanding of his words -which was frankly intentional, that fact was somewhat obvious to both of them-. He put two gold coins on the bar counter and mumbled a practically inaudible word of gratitude at the bartender before he made his way out of the bar, his coat forgotten on the back of the seat he took in front of Julian.

The cold air sent a light shiver down his spine as he made his way from the Raven to his grandaunt’s shop, arms wrapped about himself. He stopped trying to hold back the tears halfway down the street from the bar and didn’t bother wiping his cheeks when he entered the shop after mumbling the words that unlocked the door.

He sniffled, suddenly feeling like a child again, in need of comfort, as he laid eyes upon the short thin woman stacking away potion bottles while humming an old tune to herself, quietly. He had never been one to run to his mother after scraping his knee or getting hurt by the other children. He didn’t quite know what to do with the feeling that was gnawing at his wounds further, forcing him to seek the comfort and warmth of love like his mother’s.

He wanted to do anything but run to terrible lovers who would remind him of just how alone he is in the morning. It was a strange feeling to need family around, he had spent the better part of his teenage years trying to run from or keep them at an arm’s length.

Maybe this is just the sort of sentiment that comes from growing older and apart from the people you’re supposed to belong with. The confusing emotions and longing for the comfort of a loved one made his lip quiver as he called out quietly: “auntie Aeliana?”

The woman turned around quickly with her eyes a little wide at the shock of hearing the boy’s voice, seemingly out of nowhere. But the shock was soon replaced with a smile as she rushed over from behind the counter to Victor: “Oh hello sweetheart...” she inspected the tear stains that covered his cheeks with concern before she held onto his hands.

Her small calloused fingers caressed the back of his hands as she asked: “what’s wrong, my little wolf? Did something happen in the palace?” Hearing the nickname his family insisted on calling him by when he was a child, brought fresh tears to his eyes: “Auntie? Can I please have a hug?”

***

Aeliana sighed as she threw off the duvet and got off the bed before practically bending backward to crack the joints in her spine in the way that felt _just right_. She closed her eyes and sent out a soft hum of magic to check on Victor, smiling in relief when she sensed him still sleeping on the pillows piled on top of each other on the floor downstairs.

Slipping on various enchanted rings and letting down her long black hair and braiding it again with her fingertips covered in olive oil as she whispered her gratitude to the universe, made up the better part of her morning routine.

She quietly headed down the stone steps that lead to the small kitchen next to the reading room. Smiling at the stove salamander sweetly appeared to be enough of a request as the fire sparked beneath the large kettle full of water.

Peaking out the kitchen door to look at Victor, she glanced over his exhausted features and eyes that seemed even puffier than last night. She grabbed 3 dried rose blossoms from a jar and ground them in her palm, whispering a spell to help him wake up feeling refreshed, and blew it over his head softly.

He blinked slowly as he felt a soft wave of magic wash over him like cool seawater lapping over his toes. It took him a few moments of dazed blinking to realize that he hadn’t woken up in his quarters in the palace but instead he had fallen asleep in position only small cats found comfortable, over a tall pile of cushions.

He pressed his fingertips against his eyes before standing up and stumbling away from the cushions. He had mentally prepared himself to be attacked with a pounding headache after the first step he took, but oddly enough the rush of pain never arrived. The events of the past two days swirled in his head as he took a few more hesitant steps towards the kitchen and rubbed the balls of his hands against his eyes once more.

The thin threads of Aeliana’s spell struggled to keep Victor safe from the impact of his recent experiences. His feet dragged on the next step as Valerius’s arrogant tone echoed in his head. He squeezed his eyelids together as a desperate attempt to fight off the flood of still fresh memories that now hurt to remember.

‘ _He’_ was never gentle by any means but ‘ _he’_ did show a sliver of humanity towards the young witch by offering him a glass of wine from ‘ _his’_ private collection after their nights had taken a bit of a violent turn. ‘ _He’_ regarded Victor’s bruises and scars and even once offered him to get a salve from ‘ _his’_ nightstand when ‘ _he’_ saw how irritated the scratches on the boy’s arms and shoulders were. ‘ _He’_ wasn’t a monster all the time. Victor shouldn’t have spoken to him like that. It was all, his fault, he told himself.

He sighed shakily as something deep inside him clawed at the depressing thought that maybe he deserved to be miserable, that some people are simply born broken, that Valerius was too good for a freak like him, that- his eyes burned but after spending all night and half the day at the Raven he was too dehydrated to cry so his body went with the next best option! He rushed to the low window right above the pile of cushions he had spent the night on and hung his torso out halfway through it before his stomach clenched violently. He looked at the mess on the ground with a disgusted expression before flicking his hand to get rid of it, momentarily wondering where all the messes he’s cleaned like this actually, end up but quickly letting the thought go as it was too much to hold it in his head along with everything else crammed in there already.

“Feeling better?” he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Aeliana’s question, having been too lost in his own thoughts. He placed his hand over his fast-beating heart and nodded at her smiling face: “yes auntie, thank you.”

Raising a thin black eyebrow, she said: “you’re a bad liar, boy,” a soft smile playing on her lips. He sighed as his head hung low: “no. I feel like I’ve been stumped under the hooves of 20 of those huge shire horses and then mauled by a bear,” he paused and looked up at her: “and then I had my heart smashed by the idiot I, so stupidly, fell in love with.” She sighed and shook her head, her smile not leaving her face. She reached out her hand to him: “come on. You’ll feel less dramatic when you’ve had a cup of tea.” Victor let out a silent chuckle before he took her hand and rose to his feet.

He held the hand-painted mug with both hands, his gaze fixed on the blue liquid. “Butterfly pea tea… It’s good for your mental health,” she whispered.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and squeezed his eyelids together: “what mental health?” She sighed for the umpteenth time and looked at him with a serious expression: “what do you want to do about this situation and that broken heart of yours… I understand if you want to leave the palace and come back he-!” He interrupted her before she could go any further: “no! No, I’ll go back to the palace. I enjoy being in court. I just wish I could… forget Valerius altogether.”

Dots connected within Aeliana’s mind and Victor’s words confirmed the outline they created as her eyes fixed on his lips muttering out: “I want to create a spell with Water Hemlock and just erase Val from my mind.” He gasped and sat up, holding his cheek as he stared at her furious face with disbelief at being slapped: “Auntie!!!”

She squinted at him: “did you drink away your whole brain last night? Using Water Hemlock for forgetting a _lover_? Victor you can barely handle a simple mint tea spell for upset stomach without setting everything within a 10-mile radius on fire!”

He sighed and slumped back against his seat: “I feel so helpless. Everything hurts. I can’t stop reliving the past two days in my head.” Her slim calloused hand found his big and trembling one on the table: “I am getting too old to keep repeating this to 20-year-olds; first my sister, then your mother, my sons and now you. You’re a witch! You will not die of a broken heart, you do not sit and suffer from it; you will go out there and you will show the idiot who hurt you that he’s missed his chance with the most magnificent creature mother Gaia has ever seen.”

She scowled at his frown softly and held his chin: “you listen to me, pouty little wolf! You’re a witch of mixed blood, raw power drips from your fingertips. You will need no spell to intimidate or hex for revenge; losing you and watching you from afar will be that arrogant wino’s worst punishment.”

He smiled at her despite every voice in his head screaming that she is only saying all of this because she doesn’t want him to unleash his powers with negative feelings clouding his mind. He whispered: “thank you, auntie. You’re the best.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lined forehead before getting off his seat, a risky and dangerous plan already forming in his head.


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of his heels echoed through the corridors as he made his way to what Lucio _wanted_ to consider a “throne room”. The interior was decorated with enough gold and red to give even a dragon a headache and the door was draped with gold patterns bordering on gaudy and tasteless. His brows furrowed as he tried to recall how each member of the court would be positioned behind the large table and how much space he, himself, would have to work with. At the Count’s right side his wife would be seated and by her side, Consul Valerius. The seating arrangement placed Victor at Lucio’s left, quite close to the razor-sharp claws of his golden gauntlet. It sent a shiver down his spine to imagine how deep he’d feel those claws in his gut, should his plan fail. He took a deep breath before turning the last corner and looking the Chamberlain in the eyes with confidence he was quite surprised to find in himself. He would usually attempt a small smile and politely ask this _“specifically titled servant”,_ as Valerius called him, to announce his arrival but today; he was the same man who strode out of Consul Valerius’s bed chambers and did not flinch at the servants and their curious glances. For the first time in his life he truly felt his noble blood be of use to him. If Lucio can manage to be such a proud prick despite his vague origin, he could surely manage to carry himself a little taller and puff his chest up a bit.

He raised a fine brow at the chamberlain to signify his impatience and lack of interest in being nice and polite. The chamberlain gave a brief bow before pushing the gold-gilded doors open. He bowed low at the waist before the Count and Countess and spoke loudly in that nasal voice and constantly nervous tone: “Announcing the Magician, Victor!” Lucio waved his hand dismissively at the Chamberlain before looking at Victor with a scowl pulling his thick light brown eyebrows together. He noted with a cold tone: “You are late.” Victor’s serious expression instantly gave way to a sly smile: “my sincerest apologies, my lord. I wasn’t in the palace when your summons came.” Lucio shifted his weight in his seat and looked Victor up and down before asking with a slightly less frozen tone: “well? Where were you then?”

Victor took sure, long steps to stand only a few feet away from him and bowed at the neck before licking his lips very subtly and responding: “forgive me, my lord, I was searching the town for bakers and chefs- slightly more exotic than the ones you have here at the palace, to see if I could find any worthy of serving at my lord’s masquerade. I only wish for my lord to enjoy himself to the fullest, while of course leaving the commoners in awe of his glory.” Volta muttered something rather incomprehensible that sounded close to noises of joy and excitement by Victor mentioning food. The eyes of the courtiers had been fixed on the boy since the moment he had entered the room.

Valerius seemed to be in a trance, not believing his eyes or ears at how well Victor was lying to the Count or at how natural he looked among the sea of traitors and backstabbers Lucio had gathered within his palace walls.

He hadn’t spared _him_ even half a glance; keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the blonde man perched on the seat cushioned with feather down and covered with velvet, with the appearance of a king and the common sense of a child.

Lucio’s lips stretched to a delighted smile at Victor’s honeyed words: “well well… I might be able to forgive you for your tardiness if you have good news for me.” Victor’s thin pink lips stretched into a wide smile: “perhaps I shall stay after this meeting over the flooded district,” his voice sounded bored and disinterested around the words, he continued after a not so subtle eye-roll:” has concluded so we can discuss the details even further my lord.” He returned Lucio’s smirk with a smile of his own, for once feeling grateful for the Count’s low attention span.

He raised his hand and beckoned a finger for a servant to come and pull his chair out for him without shifting his stance to spare the poor girl a glance.

Lucio seemed to relish all that seemed different about his darling mage. The stench of arrogance and aroma of strong smoky cologne that wafted from the young Witch seemed to have enchanted Lucio, so much so that he nearly couldn’t make himself look away from the sharp-featured tan face when Valerius cleared his throat and spoke in a loud and clear voice: “We had just decided that the masquerade should be a small and tasteful affair this year, mage. If you had bothered to show up sooner, you would have known better if you had-” Victor turned to look at the Consul with a face that almost mirrored Lucio’s expression of displeasure, but with far more malice than simple annoyance as he cut Valerius’s sentence short: “Consul, do calm yourself. There is no need for one to raise their voice in court as you so often do.” He smirked wickedly: “unless they know their argument doesn’t hold much weight… Setting aside the matter of your constant disrespect to my person; the people are sad and exhausted, they need a chance to feel joy and forget about their daily problems over wine and music.” He raised his palms and spread his arms with a flourish to further emphasize his message of ‘ _joy and cheer_ ’: “I’m sure you’re quite used to the depressing mundane life you have _obviously,_ experienced in Athens but not everybody has a cellar filled with expensive bottles of wine to escape to. Lighten up for Gods’ sake; people need a break from their miserable lives.” Lucio clapped his hands together with a grin spread out across his face: “Well said, Victor. Well said.”

Rage burned bright behind his golden eyes as Valerius watched Victor blend in with the rest of the corrupt courtiers, further each second. He had created a monster, one apparently, even more capable than he was in deceiving and staying confident and competent. Gods, this boy was going to bring down entire kingdoms in his glory days. It pained him to watch his boy slither around Lucio’s mind –and into his claws, without knowing- when he felt so helpless, so instead he decided to simply sit back and take it over a glass of wine. The first bottle that had been brought to the room had already finished so with a nod from the Consul and –even more than usual- sour expression, the servant girls ran to fetch another bottle and summon the taster once more.

The Countess’s gaze shifted between Victor’s uncharacteristic behavior and words and the ever-tightening grip Valerius had on his now empty glass of wine. The young Countess, although used to growing in the shadow of others, for the most part, had a sharp mind; too sharp for her to miss the longing glances the young Witch had sent the Consul’s way in the past.

While her foolish husband reveled in the attention he was receiving from the mage as though he was even younger than him and desperate to hear the compliments, she studied the lad’s body language and movements. His fingertips kept tracing patterns over the crimson tablecloth and his lips twitched around inaudible words whenever he and Valerius were both quiet. Lucio appeared to be quite oblivious to the said movements, throughout the entire time Nadia had been watching.

Her eyebrows darted up as she recognized one word between the hundreds that the witch had mouthed out: “probitatis”… honesty.

It all started to make sense in her mind; the full turn in behavior, angering the Consul on purpose, the patterns traced by his fingertips over a cloth that they were both touching and the quietly murmured Latin words.

She had seen Prakran guards blessed with the gift of magic, mouth out similar words over the glass of water they’d offer the felons they held in the dungeons before they demanded their confessions.

He was using Valerius’ pure raw emotions and his slowly fading sobriety to put a spell on him!

Valerius hissed through his teeth, drawing Lucio and Nadia’s attention. Nadia glanced at him with concern: “Are you alright, Consul?” Valerius rubbed at his throat and nodded: “quite alright Countess, seasonal allergies I think.”

Nadia caught the subtle hint of a smirk on Victor’s lips as she nodded before turning back to her husband. Lucio frowned a little: “oh those are the absolute worst! I can’t seem to get rid of mine either.”

Victor blinked at him slowly before placing a hand on his golden gauntlet and an even brighter smile on his lips: “I’d be happy to offer you one of my special concoctions along with a cream to rub on your… lovely throat, my lord. They work wonders for keeping you safe from the allergies.”

Lucio was so lost on the movements of the man’s lips that he didn’t even notice the soft hum of magic beneath Victor’s fingers as he siphoned away some of the more tamed magic used on his gauntlet. He struggled briefly with the images of a small boy with white hair flooding his vision as he snatched the bit of power.

A soft “oh” escaped Procurator Volta’s lips in the brief pause between shoveling flaky sweets down her throat as she eyed the mage and the Count with her one good eye. Quaestor Valdemar smirked with amusement as their soulless gaze darted towards them. Oh every day that passed by, their desire to cut that boy open and see how many of his organs his foul magic had rotted only increased.

Nadia’s eyes widened as she watched Victor’s lips glow faintly before he whispered “in vino veritas” almost inaudibly with his eyes locked on the bottle of wine the servant girl was carrying to refill Valerius’s glass. The Countess’s mind swam around all the horrible things that this mysterious mage could be doing with his words of summoning truth and honesty.

But when she glanced at the boy’s eyes she saw something that made her heart ache. Behind the steely gaze of those pitch-black eyes, lied something that made Nadia want to cross the table and hold the boy’s head against her chest and weep with him for hours. It’s not heartbreak or sadness she saw, it wasn’t the reflection of Nadia’s misery at being married to an arrogant fool and in love with her maid of bedchamber, either.

It was something deeper and so much worse, human words fell short of describing it. It felt like searing hot black tar and burnt oil coating one’s lungs. It was stormy nights and thunder through the eyes of an anxious animal trapped in a cage in the woods. It was suffocating and consuming like quicksand poured down one’s throat.

The countess coughed into her hand lightly at the images flashing in her head before trying to drown some of the thoughts with wine.

The meeting concluded after Quaestor Valdemar gave their brief report about the number of the clinic’s patients decreasing, everybody chose to ignore the disappointment in their tone despite it being clear as day.

The Consul stood up to leave shortly after, deciding a walk would be the best way to clear wary mind. His glass of wine was abandoned on the table, still half full; he found the drink to be oddly too spirituous for it to be consumed that early in the day, despite his need to quiet down the buzz of his thoughts.

A soft sigh escaped his lips, his attempts at pinning his focus on anything specific started to seem to bring a painful pulse to his temples. Gods- what was in that damn bottle? If he hadn’t watched the taster pour a full glass down his gullet with a smile before letting the servant pour him one, he would’ve suspected that he’d been poisoned.

His mind swam and swirled as he found it nearly impossible to stay upright by the time he had reached the fountain. He sat down on the cool stone edge and held his forehead in his palm and let his eyes fall shut. His knees suddenly felt too weak to hold his weight and the roar of the water triggered a dull ache in the back of his head, one slowly spreading to his forehead and getting stronger each moment.


	4. Chapter 4

Victor ordered the spelled bottle to be sent to his quarters immediately, to avoid having anybody else having a taste of it and ending up spewing whatever goes on in their mind.

He looked around the empty room once more before gulping down the leftover contents of Valerius’s glass. His tongue swiped across his lightly reddened lips and smirked as he felt his spell fizz and fail over his tongue. He did not need wine to open his throat so he could sing his truth like a songbird held captive, the spell would never affect him anyway.

One of the most disturbing and least noticeable differences between him and witches, who practiced calmer and more diluted magic, was that his strange immunity to the effects of spells and curses. That was how his parents found out he was gifted with otherworldly powers, _almost_ like they were, before he was anything but a bundle of flesh and giggles in his mother’s arms. Calming spells did nothing when he cried, he would not be enchanted by the stars and lights emerging from his father’s fingers but instead he’d watch those fingers move in coordinated patterns that mesmerized his young mind far more than any astral bodies projected before his eyes.

He did not need spelled wine to speak; he _could not_ use such devices to help him speak his mind.

He was simply interested in the alcohol and the faint taste of Valerius’s oil-massaged lips that had been pressed against the rim of the glass. “I’ll steal a kiss; for courage, you are too stupid to gift me one yourself. And it is quite sad that it’s you who I need the courage to face.” He shook his head lightly and looked through the partially fogged-up window, at the Consul hunched over his knees and holding his head between his hands as he sat by the fountain.

He needed but a moment’s focus to project himself to where he desired to be; beside darling, cruel Valerius.

Victor crossed his legs at the knees to sit at the edge of the fountain more comfortably before he cleared his throat: “Good afternoon, Consul.” Valerius jumped off the stone seat, clearly startled by hearing the boy’s voice before sensing his presence. He fixed him a harsh glare that took far more energy than it really should have: “learn to announce yourself before you sit down by another’s side, witch. Have I taught you nothing but kissing the asses of nobles and shaming me in front of them? I was lost in thoughts, you startled me. I do not like surprises, quiet company is preferred. Though I don’t mind it so much when you provide intelligent conversation, it seems to be a rare thing to receive these days.”

Victor only grinned at Valerius’s ramblings: “oh sweetheart you are still so proper when you’re blurting out your thoughts. Who would’ve thought! I was expecting a litany of curses. Was ‘asses’ really the peak of your list of profanities?”

Valerius’s eyes widened, his mind was still _just_ sharp enough to connect the vibration of his brain in his skull with the witch’s words: “you cursed my fucking wine?” Victor’s smile widened: “there it is. I knew you cursed and not only when you’re handling a man’s member buried into your backside.”

He suddenly found it very hard to swallow his spit as he stared at the young man, his thoughts bouncing around in his head and shattering a glass full of sanity and self-control every time they reverberated off the walls. He knew he should have scolded the boy for daring to use such vulgar and disrespectful language in his presence but all he could manage to mutter out was: “why did you do this?”

He took a deep breath and stared at the golden foggy irises before responding: “because I need your honesty. And you’re a politician, love; you will no sooner give me honesty than a hyena would share his scarps with another creature.” He hissed out his words as he stood up to walk a circle around Valerius slowly: “I need you honest and sincere and I will take my answers, whatever they are, without a fight or protest. _That_ , I promise you.”

Valerius’s lips opened and closed like a fish out of water. The lack of control over his mind that he felt was nearly as maddening as the scent of perfume and wine that tickled his nostrils with every step Victor took. “Please don’t do this,” it came out as plea though it had originally sounded far more _demanding_ in his mind than it did once it was upon his tongue.

The younger man’s cold palms cupped his heated cheeks and Valerius made a soft and pitiful whine in the back of his throat as he leaned his face into the other’s hands; he found it impossible to find the instincts that would normally have him swat away the boy’s touches.

He whispered over Valerius’s lips: “just say it once… Just say it so I can let you go and give up on you returning my fucking glances in court or thinking of me for more than 5 fucking seconds a day… It’s ok, I won’t cry and I won’t be mad and I promise you I’ll be,” he blinked a few times before he murmured the phrase Valerius seemed to enjoy the most when they were alone: “I’ll be good… ok? I promise I’ll be good.”

Valerius’s eyebrows knitted together before he let out a huff of laughter: “why does it sound like you’re waiting for my confession to some sort of hatred towards you?” Victor pulled back with spite written all over his face: “what the fuck else should I expect from you? Plans to murder me or perhaps your favorite times of the day to pour wine over my head as a ridiculous form of punishment?”

Valerius’s hands covered his face as he tried to silence his laughter with them, his shoulders shaking through his fruitless attempt: “good god, you are dim.” Victor scowled as he mentally prepared himself for what insult was about to come out of the Consul’s mouth next. Valerius shook his head with an amused grin on his face: “You think I hate you! Truly, could you not have come up with a better explanation for the lengths I go through to shape you into a better member of the court and a finer young man? The bloody wine bottle that’s sent to your chambers when you spend the night lost in the pages of one book or another, doesn’t come from the servants being kind to you or even being good at their damn jobs, you dimwit! All the tricks and secrets and methods at convincing that golden idiot upon the throne of Vesuvia, and how to dress better to accent your sharp fucking features, and the endless advice and lessons I poured into your fucking ears, and all you could explain it with is that I hate you. I send a personal carriage to fetch you so you wouldn’t suffer the humiliation of hiring a one to my estate that late in the evening because I truly loath your company.”

Ignoring every fiber in his body that wanted to say that he did not know about the wine sent to him and apologize, he spat back at him: “you kicked me out of your fucking bed every time you had fucking spent yourself, you cold-hearted bastard.” Valerius closed the space between them with a long step that made the witch stumble back a little, he glared into his scared eyes: “would you rather I have you stay until the morning so another servant girl can ask ‘how you’re feeling’ and start another string of rumors behind your back about how you are on your back for your mentor?”

His eyes widened and he took another step back as the last of Valerius’s words had finally pulled away the thick curtains of anger and self-loathing, just a little.

His voice only came as a hushed whisper despite how hard he tried for his tone to project rage: “why the hell are you getting married then?”

Valerius clicked his tongue in dismay and stepped away, turning his back to the witch before he replied: “don’t mix things up. You should know better than to expect me to break few hundred years old traditions and shirk my responsibilities because of what _might_ be between you and I. This marriage and producing an heir are just as much a part of my job as showing up to court and tolerating the stupidity of royals and nobles.” Valerius turned around and his features softened when he saw those pink lips shut tight and coal colored eyes depicting the farthest Scandinavian beaches, the gathering teardrops seemed even more capable of drowning sailors than the harsh waves that lapped at the black sand.

His thumbs brushed across the boy’s high cheekbones: “I thought you promised to be good.”

Victor shook his head lightly and rasped out in a strangled whisper: “I don’t fucking want to be good. How can you say such things then in the same breath tell me to be ok with you belonging to someone else? Eight months of living in an emotional purgatory, having to spell you into being honest after you shattering my heart into a million pieces and you still expect me to _be good_?” his frown deepened and he pushed at the other’s chest half-heartedly before muttering: “I don’t want to be good. I want to scream and tear the bride to be apart and use her blood for binding spells.”

Valerius chuckled quietly, and rested his forehead against Victor’s: “I strongly suggest that you wait until after she’s given me an heir, otherwise my family will choose me another _lovely and fertile_ maiden to marry.” Victor whispered: “that’s disgusting… I would maul anybody who’d dare speak about my daughter with that tone and choice of words.” Valerius’s soft amused chuckle was silent as he pressed his lips to the boy’s forehead.

One long arm snaked its way around a svelte waist as the other hand brushed through soft caramel locks.

“You still haven’t said it,” Victor murmured with his face hidden in the crook of the man’s neck.

Valerius’s fingers combed through the boy’s hair, gently pushing it off his tensed shoulders: “I’m afraid there will be no going back once I do. I must admit it’s quite enjoyable to live in the shadow of my selfishness with how patient you’ve been… just two days ago I had reminded myself of all the reasons why the words you search must never slip my lips, as saying them will be a promise I cannot break without breaking my own heart along with yours and now I have forgotten all argument and reason.”

A cold nose nudged Valerius’s throat: “I’ll let you blame saying it on the spell I put on your wine.”

The Consul shook his head before his hands grabbed hold of the witch’s face and through gentle caresses of his thumbs over golden skin, he whispered: “I love you. No need to leave me a path to escape the truth again, I can only imagine how much pain I’ve already caused you.”

Victor whispered in a shallow exhale: “latebimus” before his lips pressed to the corner of the older man’s mouth. Valerius returned the kiss with the same softness before looking around them curiously: “what did you do now, little witch?”

He murmured against the Consul’s parted lips: “hid us from prying eyes so I could do this…” and with that, his hands grasped Valerius’s shoulders before he pressed their lips together in a bruising kiss, one returned just as passionately by the enchanted man holding him close. Valerius groaned when the other’s teeth sank into his lip in a desperate attempt to draw him in as close as possible even with his chest flush against the Witch’s. 


	5. Chapter 5

Valerius’s cheeks burned with the excitement of being kissed and touched so publicly as they made their way to witch’s chambers. Neither of them would’ve guessed that this would be something the man might enjoy and that discovery was adding to Victor’s arousal as well.

Each person that passed them by made the Consul freeze in his tracks for a brief moment before he remembered the cloaking spell Victor had cast.

Soft pink lips danced a maddening dance over the heated skin of Valerius’s neck and made it practically impossible for him to focus even with the effects of the enchanted wine fading from his mind.

By some miracle and led by the hands of the gods themselves they found their way to the mage’s quarters at last. Valerius let out an almost animalistic growl as he gripped the other’s shoulders and pressed him back against the door: “I’ve only had you beneath me a few days ago, why on earth are you this desperate for touch?”

Victor let out a breathy laugh before catching his slightly plumper bottom lip between his teeth: “burdens of youth?” He smirked before using the Consul’s attention darting to his lips, to lean in and attach them to his artful neck once more, murmuring against his skin: “that and never being allowed to touch you like this, sir.” The last word drew a throaty groan from him as he let himself be pushed back towards the large plush bed. The Mage’s eyes widened at how suddenly vocal his beloved Consul was being.

Victor’s shirt unbuttoned and fell off his shoulders smoothly with a flick of his wrist as his lover leaned back against his elbows and watched the young man strip bare before him as he made quite the show of rolling his hips subtly and bending over every few seconds.

With an impatient snap of his fingers the Consul’s clothes were off as well, the sight of Valerius’s naked body drawing a pleased hum from the Witch as he turned around and walked to the bed.

His plush pale bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he looked up at Victor straddling his hips. The boy’s golden cheeks were dusted pink with excitement as he watched the Consul lay beneath him and the knowledge that he would be allowed to explore and touch every inch of him as he pleased pulled a soft whimper from his throat.

Valerius’s lips stretched to a taunting smirk as he caressed the boy’s fingers that lay on his chest: “you seem a little lost, darling.”

His cheeks only brightened as he looked down at Valerius with a small pinch between his eyebrows and his lips pursed, the expression making him seem even younger: “no?! I’m just trying to decide what to do with you.”

Valerius’s head tossed back in an attempt to muffle his chuckle at the childish look upon Victor’s face, the motion turning the corners of the boy’s pouting lips a bit upwards.

He grasped the tan wrists with both hands before turning them around so he had Victor pressed down between the pillows piled against the headboards. He pressed a rather harsh kiss to the boy’s lips before he could protest the shift in power: “let me give you a few ideas about what you can do to me next time.”

His mind briefly wandered to all the reasons why there will not be a next time; from the Consul’s impending marriage to how he will have some trouble recalling everything that had happened during the day due to the spell being done over wine and not tea like it should have been, but with every one of the other’s touches Victor felt the voice of his reason and sanity becoming more and more muffled, the whispers of his anxiety with them.

Valerius’s lips left a trail of heated kisses from the corner of his mouth to his neck and all he could do was moan helplessly and grab hold of the Consul’s shoulders as he searched for the confidence to let his hands wander across his lover’s pale skin.

The poor boy felt the wind knocked out of his lungs when Valerius’s kisses against his skin gave way to a set of sharp teeth to dig into the soft flesh of his throat. The last of his already thin grasp over his composure and pride slipped right through his hands as he arched his back and released his lip from between his teeth to let himself moan loudly as a response to the pain Valerius’s was inflicting with each bite and harsh scratch of manicured nails down his torso.

He bit the back of his hand to keep his voice down as Valerius’s lips pressed against the dip of his Apollo’s belt. The Consul scowled lightly before grabbing hold of his wrist and pinning it against the sheets as he whispered: “not tonight and not anymore; I want to hear every single sound that will escape those lips.” Valerius’s words accompanied by the sight of his half-lidded eyes looking up at him as his lips worked their way from his hips to his inner thigh, caused Victor to growl low in his throat.

He struggled to keep his eyes open; to see as well as feel his lover’s lips and teeth against the sensitive skin of his thighs. Valerius’s long gold highlighted hair cascaded half of his face and tickled the other’s neglected manhood with their torturously soft swaying motions.

His elbows finally gave in beneath the weight of his trembling body in that awkward position, and he laid back to simply take Valerius’s teasing touches without protest. ‘ _I want to be good for him’_ he told himself as he swallowed heavily and let a pitiful whine escape his chest. _‘I want to be good; I don’t know how long he’ll be nice to me like this. I want to show him that I deserve it. I’ll be good.”_

He struggled to keep his hips down against the bed as he clutched the sheets in a white knuckle grip. The visions of every time Valerius had scolded him for being too loud or too impatient flashed before his eyes and even in that foggy state of mind he knew he should follow his instincts to still behave like the man Valerius desired to have in his bed, before today’s events.

He was torn away from his thoughts with the burning pain of Valerius’s teeth digging into his thigh.

 _‘Be good and take it like a man. He’s always been this way; he likes to touch and take as he pleases, why should his confession change anything? He doesn’t owe you anything; let him enjoy giving you pain at his own pace, toy.’_ His thoughts have always been his own worst enemy but this was truly the peak of the abuse he’d tolerated from his mind: every single fiber in his body screamed for him to stop holding back and beg Valerius for more pain, demand more attention, gripping his hair and pressing himself against those lips that seemed to grant kisses to every inch of his body except where Victor wanted them most. But, his habit of “being good and taking it like a man” had developed over 8 months of every single day telling himself to be a lover Valerius would enjoy having in his bed.

The broken cry that ripped from his throat after the bite was followed by tears falling in large drops as he pressed his palms against his mouth to quiet himself down.

The wide-eyed stare on Valerius’s face was proof of how oblivious he was to the small battle the young Witch was having in his mind. His hands cupped the tear covered cheeks as he sat up and pulled Victor closer: “forgive me, darling; I didn’t think it would hurt this much. Do you need me to stop? I’ll order a servant to bring you a salve for the wound,” his eyes darted to the bite mark he had left on the boy’s left thigh, his teeth marks were still visible but he had not broken skin.

Victor’s hands came up to hold onto the other’s shoulders once more as he pressed a kiss to the Consul’s parted lips: “no, please don’t stop. I’m sorry, I’ll calm down,” he croaked out the last three words weekly: “I’ll be good.”

Soft pale thumbs rubbed away the salty tears as he looked into the boy’s glassy eyes: “This isn’t about physical pain, is it?” His lips quivered as he shook his head lightly.

Valerius sighed and pulled him closer gently: “tell me.” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he searched for the safest phrases he could use: “I wanted to behave myself and let you enjoy yourself and now I’ve ruined everything, I’m sorry.”

Valerius only grew more confused at his words: “what do you mean ‘behave yourself’?” His lips opened and closed again a few times before he managed to put words together again: “I wanted to lay still, be patient and not touch you too much… like you always told me to.”

A shallow sigh left the Consul’s lips as he remembered saying those exact words and worse. Victor’s spell and wine had only done so much; most of his shift in behavior was his own doing. He wanted to hold him, to be gentler; but one’s past will not be whitewashed by the actions of one’s present.

Before another apology could be uttered by the trembling man he held in his arms, Valerius’s lips were ghosting over the other’s forehead as he whispered: “I’m sorry, dearest. I know I’ve hurt you. I know how confessing my love after everything that has happened, must look to you. I am sorry for leaving you with this feeling that you must be pliant ragdoll to make me happy. I assure you, you do not.”

He bit back the rest of his words as his fingers combed through the unruly curls that had fallen messily over his lover’s shoulders: _‘I know it will never excuse what you’ve endured but every time you tried touching me or attempted to take a little more initiative I felt panic. I liked it and I hated that I liked it and so I decided that if I’m going to suffer all the thoughts running wild in my mind of what a fool I am for being with you and looking forward to escaping from my work to share a bed with you, you should suffer too. You should take your ruined orgasms and leave my bed before I offer you wine and beg you to stay. If I’m going to be an unfocused mess when you leave then you should leave feeling humiliated and abused. I’m aware that I’m sick. I know that I’ve gone insane… I know the drink was a push and the way I dived off a cliff by telling you that I love you was mostly my own doing. I know my marriage will be another lie piled upon so many others. But I can’t let go. I feel like a starved leech, determined to drain you of all your love and affection and if I cannot have it I will be sure to starve you as well.’_

Breaking Valerius away from his Cimmerian thoughts, Victor whispered: “I thought the happiness from hearing your words would be like smoking opium; I thought the smoke would coat my lungs, cloud my mind and have me be a bold lover… climbing on top of you and fucking you until your vocabulary equals that of a sailor.”

The chest he had leaned on shook lightly with a chuckle and cool fingertips massaged his scalp as their owner whispered in his ear: “you know you can’t manage to be in charge sweetheart, my curses would be out of frustration.” Victor hissed as he looked up at him: “I’ve just cried in your arms like a child, every magic-infused bone in my body is demanding that I hurt you to make up for that moment of vulnerability. Do you really, want to test me right now?” Valerius’s smirk widened as he shook his head, as though to free himself of all the filthy thoughts gathered: “I wouldn’t dream of it, dear.”

A loud knock came from the door just as Victor opened his mouth to respond, making the couple quite literally jump out of bed as the knocks that followed only became louder. Valerius’s heart was beating faster than that of a trapped bird. He scrambled to put his clothes on before whoever was behind the door grew impatient of the silence and just let himself in…


	6. Chapter 6

Julian sighed and rested his forehead on the frame as he banged his glove covered knuckles against the door: “Victor I know you’re in there, please just let me in. I need to speak to you.” Valerius tried to silently order him to stall the doctor as Victor’s hands snatched at any cloth that seemed like it could cover him: “n-not now! I’ve not dressed appropriately!”

Julian snorted out a scoff as he pushed the doors open to walk: “I’d say you’re pretty safe, I’ve seen you naked before and I’m too tired to defile you _honor,_ dear.”

In a moment of impulse and desperation, a nearly bone-crushing force from Victor’s palm shoved a panicking Consul into the closet in the farthest corner of the room.

He coughed to mask the sound of Valerius’s pained groan as he looked at Julian: “too late. I feel defiled, take your leave.” The doctor’s lips fell into a pout as he looked at the boy clutching a bedsheet over himself, his facial expression not far from what one would see in a kicked puppy’s face: “I’m sorry.”

Victor blinked in confusion: “why? What did you do?” Julian’s face tilted a little before he replied with an uncertain tone: “The Rowdy Raven? You seemed quite upset when you left and I can’t help but think that’s my fault. But you know I’d never aim for my words to hurt you darling.” Victor let out a breathless chuckle: “oh god last night seems so long ago; I had honestly completely forgotten about that. And in any case you know I can be quite overdramatic when I’m drunk, Ilya. You shouldn’t worry about it.” The doctor’s lips stretched into the shape of his signature smirk: “oh yes I’m well aware, the theatre performers can’t hold a candle to the shows you manage to put on. Last night will still be second best to you making me carry you back here because I had _pushed too hard_ into our kiss.” Victor’s grin that had been forming at Julian’s words faltered when the sentence came to an end: “I… I thought we weren’t going to talk about that again.” He felt his heartbeat increase, each pulse louder than war drums in his ears. For the briefest moment he had everything; he lied in the arms of the man he loved, he had his affections, and he had felt the joy of making Valerius smile- laugh even! The pause between the seconds seemed to linger for hours as he watched Julian’s lips move but no sound reached his eardrums. A tuning fork had been banged against the cast-iron truth that Valerius will not understand how unplanned and unintended that one damn kiss was. The noise rang in his head as he watched the movement of Julian’s lips grow slower and slower, his consciousness clawed at every way there was to make the moments stretch out further. The bubble he’d lived in for the past hour or so had burst and when Julian walked out of those doors, he’d fall back onto the cold and harsh ground. Valerius would leave and never glance back at him. He trembled as Julian apologized for seemingly arriving at a bad time and made his way out of the room, Victor’s wide-eyed stare and sealed lips had apparently, unnerved him.

His mind was his own worst enemy. The seconds that had passed between the last words he uttered and the moment Valerius’s figure emerged from the closet had been a hellish decade each. His lips parted as he desperately searched for something, anything to say. He was trying to assemble pleas to be presented to Valerius to avoid the better part of his rage when the man simply brushed his fingers through his hair and said: “your door needs a lock and your closet needs dusting.” Victor’s eyes widened even further than he thought possible: “you… you’re not mad at me?” his eyes stung as he stared up at the Consul, awaiting the absolute worst. Valerius’s fingertips ghosted over his ribs: “I am. That was quite a violent shove darling, you need to work on controlling your powers.” He blinked once, twice, three times but Valerius’s anger was nowhere in sight: “yes, of course. I’m sorry I hurt you but… what I meant was-” The Consul stretched languidly before slipping his clothes back on, his words although they had cut through Victor’s, seemed to hold no malice: “what you meant was ‘am I angered by discovering that dimwitted Cypress tree has manhandled you?’” Victor gulped and nodded weakly beneath the Consul’s gaze. “No. I’m not mad about that, considering how I’m going to be wedded to another and you don’t have much choice but accepting it. However I will not hesitate to use my power to have his tongue pulled out of his head if it should find itself too close to what is mine.” His hand came down on Victor’s head gently before he pressed a kiss to the terrified Witch’s forehead. His heart slammed itself against his chest violently as he watched the Consul walk out of the room, the loud rhythm of his heartbeat making him barely register Valerius’s voice as he said “be in my chambers just before midnight”. Somewhere in his undecipherable mess of a mind, a thought shimmered: ‘what is his’. He smiled despite his hair standing on end at every other word that shaped Valerius’s threat to Julian’s life.

***

“Are you alright, Victor? I assure you the dishes are prepared the same way they always are.” Nadia promised as she glanced at the Witch’s plate filled with only fruits. He smiled at her: “Oh I have no doubt, Countess. I simply wanted to have a lighter meal so I wouldn’t have any problem waking up early and searching for better entertainment for the party, as my lord ordered.” He made a polite hand gesture towards Lucio as the words _my lord_ rolled off his tongue, making him wear his faint smirk more vividly as he glanced at the mage over his glass of wine.

Valerius was having quite a hard time restraining his expression from cracking out a smug smirk, the residue of the spelled wine still lingered over his self-control.

“I’ve heard that magic is more interesting to people than tricks by jugglers or dancers, nowadays,” Nadia smiled at Victor as she tried to ease the pressure of the room’s silence by desperately grasping at a conversation with the one person in the room, she had absolutely no trust in.

Victor’s lips stretched to a comforting smile as he took a deep breath to offer the Countess a reply, but Lucio beat him to it as he rasped out: “and where on earth have you heard that, my love? I’m not saying I disagree, it’s just curious how you could have divined that information while spending your days between a few hundred-year-old books.”

A glance at Valerius’s expression was enough for Victor to bite back his attempt at defending Nadia. Her head hung a bit lower as she continued to eat her meal in silence, never catching a glimpse of the mage’s pained, apologetic expression.

A shallow sigh left his chest as he squeezed a napkin in his palm. Lucio was a very stupid man, stupid enough to be overthrown if the plan was well thought out. But no one, not even the insane young witch sitting before him, truly dared to challenge him. And the gold and crimson draped idiot knew that if nothing else.

With a bow from the Consul and the Witch, the Count and Countess exited the dining room after a particularly tense dinner. Victor glanced down at the bowl stained with juices of berries and pineapple he had barely managed to finish, before the servants picked it up with the other ones and made their way out of the room seconds before the pair did the same.

His eyes turned to Valerius with a glare that expressed his disappointment in the silent order he had received from him during the meal, one clear enough to be mistaken for spoken words: _‘hold thy tongue, witch.’_

The moment his lips parted for him to voice out his complaint, Valerius raised a slim finger to his lips, asking for his silence once more. Victor huffed out his frustration, causing the Consul to raise an eyebrow with a glint in his eyes; the meaning was as clear-cut as it could be: _‘are you looking for a punishment?’_

He pursed his lips and looked around in the corridor they were walking down to reassure himself that they were alone before he grasped the collar of the Consul’s tunic before whispering in his ear with a confusing mix of lust and sadness coating his velvety voice: “you’re a monster.”

Valerius smirked and let his lips brush over the other’s earlobe briefly with each word: “then do you suffer from Teratophilia, dearest?”

He let out a shameless groan, more at Valerius’s hot breath against his skin more than his words, before pulling away from him and smoothing his palms over the small wrinkles that had appeared on the Consul’s collar beneath his grip. He stole a kiss from the corner of the wine-stained mouth below his, causing them to curl into a smile.

As he walked to the baths, he tried telling himself that he wouldn’t mind sharing Valerius’s bed with a woman as long as his smile was a privilege granted to him and only him…

After he ordered the servants to prepare hot water and leave immediately after, he smiled at the memory of Valerius reciting the poetry dedicated to the God of the underworld, said to have been composed for Queen Persephone.

His smile only widened when he remembered Valerius scolding for being too lost in the poem itself and the way he had read it, to understand that Valerius had meant for him to learn how to keep his voice low and calm as he read anything from love letters to grim news.

He didn’t care about that lesson of course, he reminisced to convince himself of the fact that he is who Valerius truly wants. _‘This marriage is nothing but a responsibility placed on his shoulders. He’ll carry it like he carries his family broach. I’m his in ways she will never be._

By the time he had stepped into the room filled with steam and the sweet smell of fresh flowers that were placed here and there, he had forgotten about Nadia’s curious glances in the Court meeting and the incident at dinner.

He wasn’t one to follow the traditions of these Vesuvians and try to show _decency_ in a private bath by wearing a damn robe. He undressed fully and poured two handfuls of the fine Nevivon bath salts into the tub before stepping into the large tub.

Groaning in pleasure, he sat back and sank until the water was covering his broad shoulders. He whispered a soft chant onto the water so that it’d stay at that –ungodly high- temperature.

Eyes fell shut and his muscles began to slowly relax before he reached for the bottles and jars he needed, to give his skin a good scrub until it regained its signature mint and jasmine scent instead of reeking of wine and foul magic.

He sighed in pleasure when he ran his fingers, coated in a thin layer of oil, through his long hair. His nose pressed to his shoulder as he smiled at the aroma that clung to his skin.

His tongue swiped over his bottom lip and his teeth sank into it before he readjusted his seating position and pulled a heavy metallic jar closer.

Now came his favorite part of getting ready for an evening with the Consul…


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joy to the horny people, the smut has come

He exhaled deeply before sitting on the edge of the tub and dipping his fingers in the jar of lavender oil. Pulling his fingers away with a generous amount coating them, he brought his fingertips down between his legs and slowly massaged them over the tight ring of muscle. He shivered as he tossed his head back and spread his legs further apart before easing in a single digit.

His toes curled as his forearm pressed down on his hardening member, making him groan quietly. It was almost as if he hadn’t realized that he had –almost- full control of his own pleasure when he had begun to roll his hips down onto his hand. With a second finger prying him open, his heartbeat became more erratic and his breath came out in shallow pants.

He curled his toes and arched his back off the warm tiles as the third finger he had slipped in, had pushed directly into the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Pressing his heels down against the damp tiles he searched for the same spot again and moaned loudly when hitting it was accompanied by the memory of Valerius nailing the very same spot.

He felt his breath hitch and his body temperature rise; he was bucking against his forearm and pushing down on his fingers as he found it impossible to stop thinking of Valerius’s animalistic behavior in bed. Oh how much pleasure it gave him to watch the Consul turn from a cold man whose public actions read _“virtuous and immaculate”_ to a hungry beast, clawing at the flesh Victor so eagerly presented him.

He forcefully tore himself away from the sweet images of his lover using him as a toy. Wanting to save his orgasm for Valerius and save himself from spending the entire night being reminded why he should avoid getting carried away while preparing himself for the Consul, he stood on shaking legs before wrapping a heavy dark blue satin robe around himself.

With a flick of his shivering hand, the spell he had set on the water was lifted. He applied the sweet-smelling oil-based perfume to his neck, wrists and ankles and regarded himself in the large silver framed mirror one last time.

Grimacing as he had to endure putting his still damp feet into the slippers, he tightened the belt of the robe hugging his frame.

He hummed in satisfaction as a servant passed by without seeing him because of the weak cloaking spell he had muttered to himself before exiting the bath.

Valerius knew the sound of every footstep approaching his door, having to spend his nights in castles filled to the brim with those who would say yes to murder for one reason or another, had taught him to try and determine who it was that approached his bed at all times.

A smile graced his lips as he heard the soft sounds of the carefully placed steps Victor took to reach his quarters. Quiet and anxious; like a curious beast trying to calculate exactly how he should approach a human to avoid any unpleasantness on either end of the encounter.

On the very first knock Valerius called out: “enter.” He bit his lip, realizing that he probably sounded too eager, but there was no way he’d let Victor see that. He’d claim he responded so quickly to avoid drawing attention to his door and the witch knocking on it at midnight.

The pressure of his teeth over his lip increased for a moment as he watched the young witch walk in and quietly shut the door behind him, a mischievous smirk stretching his glistening lips.

He raised an eyebrow as he tried to fight back his playful smile: “you are late, mage...” His next words turned into a quiet chuckle as Victor’s lips sealed his shut.

Large, warm hands enveloped the heated skin of his cheeks as he let himself be walked back towards the bed with Victor’s towering figure pulling him in and pushing him back at the same time. His lips parted enough for a quiet noise of pleasure to escape them as the other’s soft lips slowly made their way down the column of his throat. His hands clutched the fabric of the Witch’s robe to pull him closer and shove away the pieces of fabric that were separating their bodies.

A smile painted itself across the boy’s lips as Valerius tried his best to touch as much skin as he could reach and groaned in frustration when he felt Victor’s robe still hanging from his forearms. He wasn’t left to dwell on the matter for long as he dropped to his knees before him not a second after pushing the Consul down on the bed.

In rare moments like these, he truly felt like he was as young as the mage kneeling between his legs, locking desperate pleas behind his bitten dark pink lips. Valerius couldn’t quite recall his day’s troubles as he felt the other’s hands hovering over his ankles; waiting for the permission to touch with his half-lidded stare fixed upon the Consul’s face, a permission he rarely ever dispensed before today. His ankles were caught in the Witch’s hands barely a moment after he nodded. His feet were guided to Victor’s -hardly- clothed lap before he felt a warm kiss press to his smooth calf.

Half of his mind wanted to seek the political problems that had put his mind in a vice all day but it was especially hard because tonight, unlike all the others; Victor, behind his symbolic gestures of obedience that were meant to earn Valerius’s trust, knew he was allowed to take whatever he wanted, and he was determined to do just that.

Valerius’s breathing quickened more and more with each kiss trailing up his knee. He closed his eyes at the sensation of the cool silk fabric of his loose nightgown being pushed up his body, caressing sensitive and heated up patches of skin and making a low hiss escape his lips.

The witch’s lips curled into a smile nearly as sadistic as the ones Valerius always flashed him when he was reduced to a whimpering mess under his ministrations.

Valerius smiled as he felt Victor's lips brush over his shaft, sighing in relief when he a skilled tongue laving over his tip and gasping in terror as he felt an unshakable invisible force locking his hands above his head.  
He tried to sit up and upon 3 tries, each failing more miserably than the last, realized that it just wasn't happening so he settled for lifting his head enough to look at the man perched between his legs. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to tell him to stop this foolishness at once and just please him but a glance in Victor's direction was enough to shut him up.

His anger and small hints of past trauma sat back when he saw the Witch’s eyes falling shut as he hummed in pleasure at tasting his lover. _‘He truly loves me’_ he reminded himself, effectively pushing away the gathering dark clouds of thoughts that would trigger a panic within the young Consul if left to roam.

His index finger and thumb had formed a tight ring around the base of Valerius's shaft as his lips and tongue were doing everything they could make the man consider begging to be let inside the mage’s mouth.

As it turns out; begging wasn't necessary, because with a heated stare from half-lidded dark eyes the witch's lips were wrapped around the tip of his cock, making Valerius shudder and moan loudly at the relief he felt by finally receiving what he had been craving since the moment they had stepped into Victor's chambers earlier that day.

The corners of the younger's lips curved upwards in glee and excitement at the sounds he drew from Valerius as he bobbed his head down to take more of his length down his throat.

It meant so much more to him than it should to an ordinary man with an ordinary lover; Valerius had bitten _into_ the flesh of the mage’s shoulders and had torn pillow open with his teeth in attempts at stifling away noises of pleasure. A moaning Valerius with no shame or self-control was truly a sight for sore eyes.

His hand wrapped around the flushed member as he raised his head, **_ordered_** Valerius: "take it off," and motioned to the gown obscuring his lover's naked body from his eyes.

His fist moved up and down over his cock at a torturous pace as he flicked his fingers for the binding force on the other's wrists to be lifted long enough for him to follow his orders.

Valerius threw the nightgown off before sitting up halfway, leaning on his elbows and watching the witch's hand moving around his cock; not enough to bring any relief, just enough to keep him painfully hard.

"For Gods’ sake, darling- please," he groaned low in his throat at the squeeze the first half of his complaint had earned him before he spoke the rest. "Please... I need you... Just-" the rest of his sentence was lost as his mind was flooded with pleasure once again when he felt his cock sliding down the other's throat; the heat and the maddening dance of his tongue over every sensitive vein almost making him lose it then and there.

The thin veil of sanity and self-preservation that hid his insatiable lust from those who share his bed had been torn by this Witch and the skillful movements of his tongue.

Valerius struggled with the invisible force keeping his hands down, just now noticing that they had returned when he had _obeyed_ and stripped himself of the last thing that kept his body concealed from the Witch’s hungry eyes. A warm tongue pressed against the sensitive spot between the tip and his shaft, pushing him to the edge.

The relentless movements of his tongue drew a few drops of precum from the Consul that he swallowed with an obscene moan. Just when he felt like he would fall over and spend himself over the man’s tongue, it was all gone.

An amused chuckle escaped Victor at the sight of Valerius’s heaving chest, blown pupils and confused expression topped off by a mouth hanging open. “Oh my, you weren’t planning on having all the pleasure to yourself, were you my lord?”, he spoke with a smirk as he finally disrobed completely.

Valerius’s bottom lip was trapped between his teeth as his eyes roamed the planes of flesh he was presented with. His skin glowed in the candlelight. The long light pink scar on his left thigh, the pale star-shaped burn mark on his right arm, the too-deep dip of his collarbones, each set of the small white freckles splashed over his sun-kissed shoulders, all worked to accent the gold hue of his skin.

His always-warm touch now felt like cool water against Valerius’s heated skin as his large palm came to rest over the Consul’s cheek.

“What has you so distracted, my love?” he smiled down at him. _‘My love’_ Valerius released his bottom lip and a quiet moan along with it. The words that tumbled out of those tempting lips held more weight than the man seated over the Consul’s lap and brought him pleasure even greater than the one he felt by the slow roll of the other’s hips.

Victor’s index finger and thumb caught the other man’s chin before he spoke over his lips: “focus on me.” The command pulled another moan from the Consul, or perhaps it was the exquisite pain of his bottom being bitten into.

His hands roamed a flushed chest as he gently suckled on Valerius’s lip, nipping him as a warning whenever he felt the other’s thoughts slipping too far away. His fingers wrapped around the other’s cock, squeezing it and pulling a sharp hiss from him.

Victor pulled away, standing on his knees above Valerius as he aligned the Consul’s cock with his entrance. Quieting down his pestering thoughts that demanded a reason for all of Valerius’s silent stares, he sank onto his length. His legs quivered despite all his efforts of preparing himself for this.

Ombre locks were a mess over the sheets as Valerius threw his head back with a loud groan, struggling to resist the urge to buck his hips and chase his own pleasure without giving a damn about Victor’s.

The younger man’s hung low, the waves of his light hair cascading his face and hiding how it contorted in pain and pleasure of feeling _so **full**_. He straightened his back and steadied himself with a palm pressed to the consul’s chest as he started rolling his hips.

The agonizingly slow movements elicited a long drawn out groan from Valerius. He planted his feet firmly on the floor to move his hips off the bed and feel himself settled deeper inside his lover. The first impatient thrust pushed Victor up, making him land on his palms on either side of Valerius’s head with his mouth hanging open in a surprised moan.

His reaction made a breathy chuckle escape Valerius’s chest and painted a glare on the Witch’s face. “You’re so fucked!” he growled. Valerius threw his head back in mirth as he responded through his laughter: “darling you’re quite literally impaled on my cock, how fucked can _I_ be?”

Not a moment before his sentence had finished, the Consul’s arms were raised above his head with the same force. Valerius gulped as he felt his entire body **_pinned_** to the bed as Victor ran his hands over his own body with the intense gaze behind his half-lidded eyes locked into Valerius’s eyes.

Strong hips rose and slammed back down on the young Consul’s lap as Valerius was turned into a moaning mess, suddenly missing all the times Victor had been made to kneel on the bed and simply take whatever Valerius wanted to give.

The Witch wasn’t exactly better off than his trapped lover, being the one who directed the pace and pressure of each thrust had his mind submitted to his primal needs, making him angle each movement to result in a harsh rub against his prostate.

Nails dug into Valerius’s pecks, he tried to move as fast as he could despite the burning of his inner thighs as they were placed on either side of the Consul’s hips.

His spell must’ve shaken out of his control with the pleasure of climbing to the edge of his orgasm clouding his mind, because Valerius was sitting up and his arms were wrapped around his waist.

Before he could find the will or the voice to complain a large hand came to rest over his ass, effectively stilling him as Valerius began a relentless rhythm of quite literally _pounding_ into the poor boy.

His senses felt just sharp enough for him to grip Valerius’s hair, and press a harsh kiss to his plush lips and order him: “finish me off. Now! I can’t take…” his words trailed off into a loud moan as Valerius latched onto his throat with lips and teeth and snaked an arm around his waist as his free hand took hold of the Witch’s cock.

His thumb swept over the tip to use the drops of precum gathered there to quicken the movements of his hand around his shaft. He hissed in pain and sick pleasure as Victor’s nails buried themselves into the flesh of his shoulders. The Witch groaned under his ear and shuddered as one particularly hard thrust pushed him over the edge.

He shook and shivered in Valerius’s arms as his orgasm hit him, making him spill over both their chests and the Consul’s hand.

The next few moments were spent in desperate pants and attempts at coaxing Valerius towards his finish with hands massaging his back and shoulders. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as Valerius’s teeth scraped over his Adam’s apple and his fingertips dug into his hips when he felt a wave of pure bliss wash over him.

He let a pitiful whimper escape him as he felt filled with the evidence of Valerius’s orgasm. He pushed the Consul back to use his chest as a place to lay his head until his breathing slowed to anything other than rushed pants.

He smiled against flushed golden cheeks as he murmured through short breaths: “what say you, Witch? Were your orders carried out well?”

He attempted to muffle out his joyful laughter with his hands covering his face from the eyes down and his forehead pressed against the Consul’s collarbones: “you’d make both a wonderful and an awful Witch’s assistant, dearest.”


	8. Chapter 8

Valerius’s fingers traced the movements of muscles beneath Victor’s skin slowly as the Witch was wiping the skin of his chest from the evidence of their earlier play.

The Consul’s lips rested on a spot between the shoulders before him as he murmured: “I thought you were going to be trembling and adorable like this afternoon.”  
A smirk set itself on the boy’s lips as he glanced at Valerius over his shoulder: “I'm still adorable when I'm assertive.”

He chuckled quietly in response before pressing a kiss to the Witch’s shoulder blade: “No darling. You are not _adorable_ when you're assertive.”  
Victor smirk faltered and reconstructed itself as a saddened and partly angry knit between his eyebrows. He didn’t think his lover would go back to his older behavior… not so soon, at least.  
Valerius reclined back against the mountain of pillows set against the headboard, resting his head back to look at the ceiling and not see it as he was a bit lost in thoughts: “you lack the boyish charms you always show and that look in your eyes that makes me want to pin you beneath me until you're crying.”  
Valerius seemed to be too lost in reminiscing what transpired mere seconds ago to notice Victor staring at him with an eyebrow raised.

He continued to spin the words swirling in his mind into carefully constructed sentences: “you are however, the most yourself when you exercise control like that. You no longer seem soft and cute but Gods you are incredibly sexy. I don't have to think twice when I hang onto you, I know you have enough control for me to let go of mine. The strain and stretch of muscles beneath your skin don't make me consider if you're struggling to take me, it simply leaves me more aroused. Just be yourself more often for Gods’ sake. At least be yourself when we lay together. I cannot pressure you to show the beautiful monster residing beneath your skin to all who dare lay eyes on you… I could do with less smart mouth comments in court but I doubt I prefer meekness and obedience over holding a wild witch with no shame in his movements.”  
Victor spoke with bitterness masking how much joy he was taking in the way Valerius spoke of him: “funny how you always insisted I be good before, then.”  
The Consul stretched out his limbs before finally turning his face to the side to look at the boy regarding him with the curious eyes of a wild animal seeing his first human: “can you truly blame me for not wanting to hear heart-wrenching sobs from underneath me as I was trying to enjoy myself?”

A taunting smirk appeared on the Witch’s lips: “Oh darling, you are so full of shit; you're too sadistic to find any of my cries **_heart-wrenching._** You simply wanted me to find joy in pleasing you greater than the pain I had to endure by you impaling me with the impatience of a teenage boy.”

Valerius raised a fine brow and returned Victor’s smirk with one of his own and an amused expression: “I’m afraid I have to ask; how many teenage boys have impaled you exactly?”

Victor scoffed as he laid on his side with his arm stretched over Valerius’s pale chest, eyes darting down to admire the contrast of their colors that ran deeper than their skins: “well if you must know; none. You were the first man I allowed inside me.” Valerius ran his fingertips up and down the other’s back in random patterns: “you weren't a virgin when we met, darling.”

Victor huffed and scowled a bit: “no, I was not. I see virginity in lack of experience not in never having been filled by another's cock,” he sat up and freed himself of Valerius’s embrace, tone suddenly bordering on enraged: “why? Did you want me to tell you so you could find sadistic joy in fucking a virgin?”

Valerius sighed and pushed himself up on his elbows to be at eye level with the angry Witch: “don't be so defensive, I don't care how many have had you before me.” Oh he knew well that those words were nothing but air, he cared. He cared a great deal that the idiot doctor had dared kiss _his_ boy. To soothe his own nerves he continued: “You're all mine, now and for as long as I wish. That's all care about.”

Victor tilted his head and asked in an odd voice that the Consul couldn’t quite decipher: “what if I break your heart?” Valerius responded regardless of his confusion over Victor’s motive for asking such a question: “then I'll keep yours captive in a cage of guilt and regret forever.” _‘You’re in love with me darling’_ he thought and didn’t utter. There was no need for the words to be spoken, it hung in the air as clear as the crystals decorating the chandelier and they reflected the truth of Victor’s heart far better than a dozen silver back mirrors.

The Witch let his smirk slip into place: “how clever.” Valerius arched a brow and spoke with a tone reeking of confidence, the stench of which made Victor feel high and lightheaded: “I was born and raised to speak.”

The boy’s fingertips reached over to glide across Valerius’s skin until his arm was once again snaked around the Consul’s waist: “it's quite the miracle that nobody had ruffled your feathers before this wild little wolf ran his claws through them, beautiful songbird.”

Oh how he wishes he could explain to his lover how his smirk burnt his lips, how bitter the truths he held back felt and how desperately he wanted to spit them out like a sip of poisoned wine. But he did not. He smirked at the Witch’s voice and held him close. He made conversation and allowed himself to pretend to forget the sharp edges of the shards of memory pressing against his subconscious.

***

Their chests were pressed against each other as they both sought after more touch and connection than they were already sharing.

He whispered with his eyebrows knitted in curiosity: “why don’t you tell your aunt that you have more control over your powers than she thinks?” The Witch took a deep breath laid back against the plush pillows, and pulled Valerius over his chest; he didn’t seem to mind being held. “Because then I’d have to show her the extent of said powers and I can never show her everything so it’ll be another senseless half-lie.”

He whispered with his chin resting over the other’s chest, a feline curiosity glowing in his golden eyes: “why can’t you show her the full extent of your powers.” Victor rested his head back against the pillows and combed his fingers through the long locks sprawled over his chest and arm: “it’d be alarming. Magicians aren’t particularly fond of witches with my sort of power. I tend to scare people with my aura alone.”

Valerius’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he set both hands on Victor’s chest and pulled his body up a bit to look at his beloved Witch with a smirk matching the look in his eyes: “why aren’t I scared of you then?”

Victor answered without hesitation: “you’ve already lain with me.” Valerius’s expression changed colors from amusement to confusion as he spoke: “I fail to see the connection.”

The Witch’s breath came out in a defeated sigh as he summoned the dagger Valerius kept by his bed for protection and pressed the blade to his throat: “how do you feel, my love?”

Valerius chuckled carelessly: “alright? You’re not going to hurt me, darling, I know that.” Victor sighed again and nodded: “that’s the illusion. Should I decide to press down and slit your throat, you’ll bare it to me with a stupid smile on your face.”

The Consul pressed his palms down on the hardened muscles of the Witch’s chest, the smile on his face amused the Victor much more than it should have. Who would’ve thought Valerius would be as playful as a housecat after he had his control stripped away and made to enjoy it. With that same smile he spoke: “And have you been thinking of hurting my smiling face often lately?”

He dragged the back of his knuckles against his lover’s prominent cheekbones and responded to his playful smile with a wicked smirk: “no. You do have such a beautiful smile, my love.” Valerius’s lips stretched further. Suddenly he felt like a teenager again; basking in the warm light of a beautiful man’s compliments and his caresses. He enjoyed pretending there was no past trauma he held on to and there was no bitterness left between him and his beautiful witch.

Thin lips felt like rose petals against Valerius’s throat as they caressed his skin with each word Victor spoke: “I much rather have you give me that lovely smile _after_ I’ve hurt you, showing me that you’re mine regardless of the pain. One might say I want revenge but I’m not angry at you. I just sometimes want a good boy to sit at my feet and leap to kiss my hand should I allow such displays. I’m not ashamed to admit sometimes I crave _reverence_.”

Valerius’s chest and shoulders shook through his shocked laughter as he sat on the Witch’s lap: “and here I thought Lucio to be the most self-obsessed human on earth!”

Victor chuckled breathily and looked up at Valerius: “he’s barely human and I think we both know I have more rights to be polluted with the sin of pride than he is.”

Soft pale fingertips cupped his cheeks: “you do, darling.” Victor turned his face to press a kiss to Valerius’s palm, a few shorter locks of hair falling over his face in the process.

The Consul tucked the stray locks back behind his ear, dragging his fingertips over the thick copper-colored rings going through his helix and earlobe. He whispered to himself with his eyes moving over the boy’s features: “as if you don’t already look like a temple statue made of only the most precious metals,” he tapped the earrings with his thumb softly.

Victor was too lost in Valerius’s touches to notice when the other turned his face to the window. He opened his eyes when he heard the Consul sighing deeply. Clutching Valerius’s hands as his fingertips were dancing their way down his throat, he whispered: “what’s wrong, my love?”

Valerius didn’t tear his gaze away from the dark blue shades of early twilight: “I have to leave by noon… You picked an awful time to make me smile so much. That poor girl is going to have her white veil lifted by a groom who’s thinking of another’s face.”

Victor held his tongue back from twisting words of comfort, allowing Valerius to speak thoughts freely and without interruption. “I was too much of an idealist. Perhaps it’s the fact that my mother seemed to live and breathe for my father and his love, which made me think my spouse and I would share the same kind of love. I thought I’d shine in court and help a city flourish into something as close to utopia as possible. Instead I am to vow my faith, respect and love to a person I’ve never met. Every moment I spend in court is a piece of my soul chipping away like flakes of skin from plague victims… I have to admit I don’t have much left of the said soul that’s not drenched in poison and wine. I didn’t want to be in love with you so I could safely deny my wife my heart because of the mutilated monstrosity life had made of it through the years, but now…” he pressed his lips together as if speaking of the grim future ahead would make it hurt him even more than destiny had already planned.

Black eyes watched golden ones watch the sky slowly change colors as Valerius couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the dawn approaching, or his fingers from the confines of Victor’s warm hands.

This painful embrace and the bitter anticipation of the sun spreading her rays across the land felt somehow, sickeningly familiar.


	9. Chapter 9

She was lovely, he’ll admit to that. Bright honey-colored eyes, blushing freckled cheeks, soft black hair and the perfect curve of her smile would’ve enchanted any other young man, yes.

_Olivia is perfect, an amazing wife, most beautiful of her 6 sisters, most virtuous, she has a personality even more pleasant than her face, a truly magnificent young lady she is, quite intelligent and yet so delightfully obedient._

Valerius threw up everything his new mother-in-law had fed him during the ceremony, the second he was allowed some privacy. _‘Lay off the alcohol, you bloody idiot’_ he told himself while another voice in his head screamed: _‘I WILL NOT SUFFER A MOMENT OF THIS SOBER!’_ He sighed: “Gods help me I’ve gone insane.”

His nausea had not left him for a single moment since. He sat in the carriage with his **wife,** returned all her smiles, politely asked her questions about herself, and did not pay attention to a single answer. His nausea didn’t go away. He kissed her hand and retired to a different room, telling her that he prefers to allow her, her rest... _‘rather than rob you of your virginity while I long for the one my heart truly belongs to.’_ His nausea remained.

He sat at breakfast, swallowed down a single spoonful of something he does not remember, with great effort. He thanked her and complimented her cooking talents. His nausea remained.

He spent his day between his books and scrolls in his study, he cursed Lucio’s name for insisting he stays home for at least a week. He didn’t get anything done, wrote a letter to his beloved and tucked away between his scholarly volumes. He threw up his breakfast and washed away the bitter taste of his stomach acid with a glass of wine. He remained bloody nauseous.

He eyed his lunch with a look of despair. _‘Come on, you can do it. Just one bite, just one goddamn bite and then you can hide away in between your books again.’_ He swallowed each spoonful of the beef stew with a large gulp of wine. He felt fucking pregnant; the smell of the food sickened him. He smiled and called Olivia “an absolute magician” in the kitchen, regardless.

He nearly burst into tears of anger and frustration when his head servant, Gustav, suggested a tour of the grounds for _the lady of the house_ and Olivia smiled at Valerius; her damned bright eyes turning to her husband _expectantly_.

He gave her his brightest smile: “of course, my dear. How awful I’ve been; spending all morning in the study. Change into something more comfortable and we’ll have a walk in the grounds.”

Olivia looked so out of place in his home, the light colors of outfits were sickening. _‘How the hell does she seem so cheerful???’_ he sighed shallowly whenever she turned her back to him to look around. Adria’s neighs and huffs seemed angrier than usual as he showed Olivia the stables. It was as though the mare could sense her master’s distress just by the way shallow breaths escaped his dry lips.

The colors of the leaves in the vineyard nauseated him further, never had he seen a more hideous green. His soul screamed for the world around him to be up in blazes just so the acrid taste of guilt would leave his mouth.

The air in the wine cellar had never felt so oppressive. He found it hard to breathe and his vision swam as he watched Olivia move about, still asking bloody questions. All the places he had chosen to make his little escapes to were now shared with a stranger he had deeded his soul to in exchange for _children_.

Olivia finally let go of his hand and walked away, disappearing between the wooden barrels to discover the space on her own. He clutched the side of a large barrel and took a deep breath to steady himself. He whispered with a scolding tone: “you’ve never once lost consciousness throughout your life, pull yourself together!”

Straightening his back, he called out: “shall we head back upstairs my dear?”

Olivia returned to him like an obedient pet. The conversation they had in the library later brought Valerius face to face with the fact that Olivia saw herself as just that, a _pet_!

Waking into the library widened her never-fading smile and brought a delighted gasp to her lips as she strayed from her husband’s side. She ran her fingertips across the spines of some of the books as her eyes scanned the room and the hundreds of others occupying the shelves.

Valerius asked absent-mindedly: “do you enjoy reading?” The question made Olivia’s lips finally meet as her smile gave way to a polite and blank expression: “Yes… Of course I will set it aside, should my lord see that more fitting…”

Valerius squinted a bit as his mind struggled to come to a conclusion about what the hell was exactly wrong with this girl’s family that made them have her believe her husband was in control of her reading.

He arched a brow: “my mother is more well-read than my father so I do not see why you’d require _my permission_ for such a thing.”

She simply bowed her head down and mumbled a quiet thank you. And it was then that it dawned on him: she was not trained only to be a wife and a mother, but an object to be traded and owned.

The rest of the day was filled with the same species of misery Valerius had felt all day: why wasn’t his insane little witch here in her stead? Why wasn’t it, him who explored this house with curiosity glowing in his coal colored eyes? He’d walk the grounds with the same pride he always held in his stride, only bolder and brighter now; for now he was the Consul’s husband. His smiles and amused smirks would be so delightful to see. He’d challenge Valerius with each word that left that smart mouth of his.

His hair would’ve shone in the sun as they walked through the vineyard, Valerius would tell him to braid or tie it with a ribbon as any other noble would. And the witch would dismiss the comment, saying: “I enjoy the breeze moving through them far too much to trap them like that.” And Val would enjoy such an answer, in his way.

Wherever the Witch was, he could spot him by simply looking for a man sculpted of pure gold from head to toe and adorned with blue and grey fabrics.

In his fantasies, he would hold Victor’s hand and sigh in the pleasure of seeing a ring that made the witch his and his alone. And upon that thought, the thick bubble of his fantasies burst: The Witch was not the kind to be _owned_ like that. He’d die in a cage sooner than Olivia would sing her first happy song at being held in such a prison.

***

He managed to avoid his _husbandly duties_ for the entire week; each night’s lie more convincing than the last.

 _‘Well done Val, you were truly born to be a diplomat! Such a carefully woven web of lies you have draped over your **wife** ’s eyes every night!’_ He sighed at his self-condemning thoughts and hid the 7 letters he had written in his sleeve before exiting the study.

He pressed a _chaste_ kiss to Olivia’s cheek before parting and heading for the palace carriage waiting for him just outside the gates of his manor.

He sighed in relief when the carriage started moving. Pulling the letters from his sleeve, he held them tightly between two thumbs and index fingers as he mentally reviewed every word inscribed on each piece of paper.

He imagined his lover’s lips curling around each word; _he_ had a habit of reading things out loud as he said it helped him truly _feel_ each syllable. The image of Victor sitting in his little reading nook beside the window as he held the letters in his hands, golden rays of the sun making his features shine, brought a smile to his face. His subconscious felt desperate to find relief from the anxiety of having to go back home again.

***

Nadia offered the poor Consul a sympathetic smile as Lucio droned on about how marriage can be a true blessing for a man granted he finds a _good obedient wife_ , as though he thought of women as pets or servants. The tea Valerius was drinking felt like poison down his throat as he plotted all the ways he could cut off Lucio’s misogynistic head right there.

His hair was for once, tied into a loose braid with a blue oval-shaped jewel or two nestled between the loops. He had thought about cutting it after depression and mania had crept into his mind in the first few days. But now he settled for binding them, trapping them together. _‘If he’s not here to run his hands through you, you’re not allowed any freedom.’_

He knew _he_ would be at the palace again today so he loosened the tight braid, massaged each lock of hair with rose oil and pinned small sapphires into the braid. Whispering a few words over the vial of oil, he poured some into his palm before tracing his collarbones up to every surface of his skin he wanted to bring to attention, with glistening fingers.

His collar was pushed open even further with the breeze flowing through the drawing-room, the light blue fabric seeming all too eager to slip off the skin it was hugging.

Eyes were drawn to him as he stepped into the room. His obsidian eyes glowed as he spotted Valerius sitting on Lucio’s other side.

He had mouthed out his words a thousand times before the mirror, pictured Valerius's signature scowl and smiled at the memory of it each time. He bowed curtly at the Count and Countess before turning to Valerius and speaking in monotone: "Consul Valerius! Your presence was missed in Court." That was it; no congratulations on his wedding, no extra words, nothing that would smudge his concealed message: "I've missed you."

Valerius almost let his expression slip into a smirk at his boy's words before gathering himself and replying with an uninterested tone: "I'm sure this means there are quite a few of your messes that I'd have to clean up." Victor smirked, seeing Valerius's message clearly: "I'll make up for the days u spent longing darling."

He felt like his magic's hum rise with each moment since the second he had walked into the drawing-room. Nadia somehow knew she was the only one who saw how far and wide Victor's aura had stretched. Behind the veil of the human eyes, waves upon waves of oily air filled the entire room, their source being Victor's presence.

She finally looked up at Victor's eyes, with a horrified and disgusted look on her own. The Witch met her gaze with a soft smile on his lips, to her it looked very out of place considering how closely those dark clouds floated to his body, making him look like he was dripping in black ink from head to toe. "Are you alright Countess?" he asked.  
She tried to swallow her terror of this odd creature before saying: "yes. I'm fine, I think I just need a bit of fresh air," turned to Lucio: "if you'll excuse me, darling." Lucio simply waved his golden arm in dismissal.

The pain of having to tolerate that idiot, fear of having a black hole of a man roaming the halls of her home, and the longing she felt for just being able to sit by _her_ side, brought tears of frustration to her eyes as she was walking through the gardens.

She hadn't seen this vile witch's true form before she saw him spell the Consul's wine... Why did he even do that? Valerius seemed fine enough; he didn't do anything strange or out of the ordinary but maybe that was a part of the Witch's plan.

Her mind swam with possible conspiracies and schemes threatening the palace without her idiot of a husband even knowing.  
She hadn't noticed that her steps had carried her out to the edge of the palace grounds as her mind piled more and more dark thoughts on itself. She looked at the little cottage surrounded by two little but flourishing gardens, seeing it brought a smile to her face and a spark of joy to her tired mind.

She walked up to the door and knocked twice very softly. She could hear rustling from the inside before the door opened and bringing the familiar head of red hair to her view. Hearing Portia ask with a bit of shock in her voice: "milady?” felt like cold water washing over her exhausted mind; the sound of her voice alone was ten times as effective as any remedy for her migraines.

Nadia almost, **almost** felt ashamed by the fact that this girl's mere presence brought her so much peace, but didn’t she deserve this little bit of comfort after such a week?


	10. a little word

**Hello**

**So this is a bit awkward because I only started writing this 1.5 months ago, but I basically just got very discouraged. Tends to happen, I'm not exactly confident in my work. I'll still keep writing King of Swords because I actually enjoy the story but I just don't think that others do, which is absolutely fine.**

**So chapter 9 is most likely going to be the last chapter I upload unless something actually motivates me to upload. **

**I know I shouldn't care about numbers but they are truly tragic and they have indeed affected me.**

**I have 3 oneshots to upload, one of which is a commission, and after that I'll probably just go back to writing fanfiction as a way to make my day job as a writer more bearable, but I don't think I'll be uploading anything I write anymore.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who supported this work so far, it means so much to me and I'm sorry if I have disappointed anyone.**

**\- Aria**


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